True to Form
by the0voice0from0above
Summary: Destiel AU: A CrissCross tournament is about to take place at TrueForm academy, a school for the gifted. Castiel, a jaded son of a rain god and school loner, is determined to enter in an effort to win the grand prize. The only problem is, CrissCross is a team game and not only does he have no friends, no one likes him enough to be his partner.
1. Chapter 1

TRUEFORM CRISSCROSSERS SUCK DICK was written in splotchy red spray paint on the sidewalk just beyond the school gates. Castiel stepped over the swirl of pink soapy water where the janitor was scrubbing away to get a closer look at the poster glued to the brickwork of the school perimeter. CrissCross the annual tournament was due to start in a few weeks. Normally Castiel wouldn't have been interested. He didn't care for the exaggerated fanfare and obtuse school spirit that TrueForm felt the need to chug on like a cheap bottle of wine. Castiel wasn't a "school spirit" type of guy. He wasn't a "school" type of guy period. Just staring at the obnoxious fluorescent orange and seaweed green colour scheme made his eyes water. It hadn't been the colours, though, that had caught his attention. It had been the tiny exclamation of a "BONUS PRIZE FOR THE HUNDRETH CRISSCROSS TOURNAMENT!" in the left hand corner of the poster. His tummy was churning both with excitement and unease.

Someone beside him whistled low. "Ten thousand bucks. That's five hundred more than last year."

"Wouldn't say no to that," said another voice. "There's a bonus prize too."

"What is it?"

"A rain stone."

"What the hell is a rain stone?"

Of course no one else at TrueForm besides Castiel would know what a rain stone was. They had no use for it. Unless you were a descendant of a rain god, which was what Castiel was, then a rain stone did little more than give off a pretty glow. If they hadn't been so rare and therefore expensive Castiel would have had his own by now. It was pure luck that the CrissCross tournament was giving one away as a prize.

Castiel's jaw clenched as he stared at the glaring print. A rain stone. An actual rain stone. If he won he could go home.

There was nothing else for it, he had to compete. But how and with whom? CrissCross was a team game, two verses two. To even enter he would have to have a partner. Given that he was a bit of loner and had a total of zero acquaintances, let alone friends, it was going to be difficult to find someone willing to team up with him. There was also the issue of having no idea how to play CrissCross. He had seen half a match on television once but that was the extent of his experience with the game. If he was going to get his hands on the rain stone he needed a plan.

* * *

Calculus was taught by Death. Not surprisingly that wasn't his real name. The heavy black clothes, sunken face, quiet footsteps and speech were what had encouraged the students at TrueForm Academy to christen Mr. Richings with an alternative name. The nickname had been around for so long, years in fact, that Mr. Richings himself had since embraced it and upon meeting a new class introduced himself as Death. He even allowed the students to refer to him as such. It was too bizarre for Castiel who couldn't see the resemblance between Mr. Richings and the Grim Reaper. He kept to the name typed on his lesson plan and didn't deviate from that.

It was while he was in Calculus that he began to formulate his plan for the CrissCross tournament. He realised that persuading someone to partner with him wasn't going to be the hard part. An offer of _all _the winnings bar the rain stone would be sufficient to secure a team mate. No, what was going to cause a problem was Castiel's choice of partner. He needed someone skilled enough to get them through to the final. He also needed someone trustworthy and willing to teach Castiel how to play which meant a lot time spent together and there were few—very, very few— people Castiel could stand to be alone with at any given time.

His eyes traversed the room, landing on select members of his Calculus class which he knew to be good at CrissCross. Meg Masters was one. Brady Johnson was another. Neither would do. Castiel wouldn't trust either of them as far as he could throw them. Technically, with his talents, he could throw them very far but that wasn't the point.

Who at TrueForm had strong morals and skill in the CrissCross court? Who had patience but also a passion for the game? Who was strong? Determined? Loyal?

It suddenly dawned on him but his revelation felt less like a rising sun and more like a sack of bricks. Castiel knew who he wanted. He didn't like him and he was fairly certain the feeling was mutual but his proposed partner had all of the correct attributes Castiel needed to win the rain stone and that was all he cared about.

The sun was setting and casting an orange glow onto the three students messing around with a rubber disc on the far right hand side of the CrissCross courts. Castiel sat on the back of a wooden bench some distance away, his feet on the seat, rotating a drop of water in the air with his finger while he watched.

Dean Winchester had his shirt off – no surprise – and his wings out. Dean was what was classed as a "Predator." He had the characteristics and abilities of some of the most dangerous creatures on the planet and was able to morph parts of his body to take the shape of such creatures. The broad length of his wings and the deep, earthy brown feathers with a golden sheen told Castiel they belonged to a golden eagle. Castiel had heard that Dean used the keen eyesight of his bird alter ego in CrissCross matches.

With the sun burning up the concrete behind Castiel, the red and orange hues its rays were throwing out made Dean's wings practically shimmer. Castiel might have been jaded and cynical but he wasn't blind. Dean was a stunning creature. He was a mix of many. How many? wondered Castiel. He had heard once that Dean could produce a tail though he had never seen it himself. How many animals made up his handsome physique? He watched, with rapt attention, Dean's pectoral muscles shift as he tossed the rubber disk into the wall behind a class mate. Dean caught it on the rebound with ease, throwing his head back and laughing at something his friend had said.

Gathering courage, Castiel made his way towards him.

* * *

Dean's skin was hot from the sun. He was still riding a high after seeing the CrissCross tournament posters plastered around the school. It was days like this that he really appreciated all those summers slaving away at Bobby's auto repair store and eventually selling his 1962 Chevy Impala – it always made him cringe whenever he remembered putting her up for sale – to afford two places at TrueForm. The price of the car had paid for both him and Sam's tuition fees, though, so it had been worth it. Still, it would have been nice to keep the car after spending so many hours fixing her up.

"Watch out, Ash!" called Dean and swung the disk past his head, so close his hair ruffled, and into the wall. It rebounded at a perfect forty-five degree angle, spinning fast enough to blur human vision but not Dean's, and straight into his hand.

"Dean, he's so baked he couldn't dodge an Aixam Coupe with a flat tyre," said Jo, dragging Ash out of the way by the arm.

Dean burst out laughing.

"Hey, I got eyes," said Ash.

"Yeah, red ones. Move your ass, unless you want Dean to cave your skull in with the disk."

Dean raised his arm ready to throw again when the scent of electricity fuelled rain flew up his nose. His palms began to sweat almost immediately. Heart hammering he turned and sure enough, Castiel Novak was walking towards him, hands in his pockets.

"Fuck," muttered Dean.

As always Castiel was frowning. Beneath his dark brows his blue eyes glowed and swirled like the turmoil of a stormy sea. It felt like that same sea was rolling inside Dean's stomach as he came to a stop in front of Dean. God, he was gorgeous. Why did he have to be so fucking gorgeous?

"Hello, Dean," said Castiel.

Dean fought the blush that threatened to overload his face. He looked away. He had to mentally prepare to speak to Castiel. Draw out his purpose built "Castiel personality." Sure it was a little cockier and more of an asshole than his true self but it got the job done and he had a chance of making it through the conversation without embarrassing himself. His wings were twitching with anxiety but he doubted Castiel was paying attention to them.

"What's up?" drawled Dean. _Nailed it._ He mentally fist pumped his nonchalance. Where the hell had he dragged that breeziness from in such a short space of time? He aimed the disk at the marker painted on the wall.

"I was hoping to talk to you alone."

The disk slipped out of Dean's sweating hand and slammed at speed into the side of Ash's head. "Oh shit!" yelled Dean. "I'm so sorry, man."

Ash, who had been knocked clean off his feet, was red faced and laughing.

"You alright?"

"Hey, I'm cool. I'm good." He waved Dean's attempt to help him up off.

"I'll take him back to his room," said Jo, giving Dean a not so subtle smirk. "And leave you two to talk." He could almost hear the quotation marks surrounding "talk" in her voice.

He glared at her. "Yeah, you do that."

It was only when Jo and Ash were well clear of the courts and their silhouettes stood out against the rapidly darkening sky that Castiel spoke. The space in between that time had been awkward as hell.

"I want to enter the CrissCross tournament and want you to be my partner," said Castiel bluntly.

Dean couldn't help his disbelieving snort. That couldn't have been further from what he had been expecting. Then again, the fact that Castiel was talking to him at all was a shock. Dean had gotten the impression Castiel didn't like him very much. He didn't know why exactly but he had never tried to find out either. It was impossible to loosen up around Castiel. He felt on edge constantly and because of that he often said things he didn't mean.

"You're joking, right?" said Dean.

Castiel arched a brow but, seriously, how else had he expected Dean to react? To his knowledge he had never seen Castiel step foot on a CrissCross court and he definitely hadn't seen him play the game.

"Uh, yeah, not to sound like a douche but you do realise you'll probably be competing against some of the best CrissCross players in state?" said Dean.

Castiel didn't move; he didn't even blink. His eyes were fucking distracting. Two pools of liquid, constantly changing into a different shade of blue. Staring into them was like tumbling into an abyss. So deep he felt dizzy with it.

Christ, he had it so bad. So fucking bad. He remembered laying eyes on Castiel on the first day of school. Ever since then he had been Dean's jerk off material, his "go to fantasy fuck buddy". There was just something about him. The way he smelled of rain and electricity. His dark hair, his lips, his eyes— Christ, his eyes—his hands. A couple of years ago Dean had creamed his pants watching Castiel play with his pen in class.

"I know. That's why I would like you to be my partner. You're an excellent CrissCross player," said Castiel.

Dean had to fight the swell of pride that surged forward at his words. "Yeah. I'm awesome," he lied. "I get that. But you're not, man. Why should I team up with you? What's in it for me?" _Please say sex. I could bend you over a desk and fuck you raw, you have no idea. _

"You can teach me to play and when we win you can have the winnings." Castiel's mysterious eyes flitted away and back again. "Except the rain stone. I want the rain stone."

"_If _we win," he corrected. "What the hell is a rain stone?"

"Does it matter?"

Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He had been planning on teaming up with Jo. She was a damn good player and he had pretty good odds of making his three straight wins four with her help. With Castiel, he didn't. But if he said no, he would be turning down his only opportunity of getting to spend time with him, something he had wanted to do for too long.

Was Castiel worth losing his fifth win for? Losing ten thousand bucks for?

If he trained Castiel up enough in the next few weeks. . . maybe they could do it. Maybe. They would have to work their asses off though and Dean had no idea how committed Castiel was to win.

As if reading his thoughts – hell, for all Dean knew he probably could – Castiel said, "There's no need to doubt my resolve. I want to win."

"Why?" said Dean curiously. "Why now? You've never wanted to enter before." There was a lot of mystery surrounding Castiel. No one knew the full extent of his powers or where they had originated from. Dean didn't even know if he batted for the other team.

"I want to win," repeated Castiel, jaw tightening.

Dean shrugged like it was of no importance. "Whatever. I'll do it, I'll train you and we'll compete but you better not slack off. We're training everyday starting tomorrow. 6PM sharp. When and if we win, I want the cash. All of it. And you get the voodoo stone. Deal?"

Castiel nodded once, holding out his hand.

Dean's eyes dropped to it. His lips parted. Carefully, he took Castiel's hand in his and shook it. The touch raised the hairs on the back of Dean's neck.

"Deal," repeated Castiel.


	2. Chapter 2

A slip of paper demanding witnesses to whoever had defaced school property was pushed under Castiel's door the next day. Everyone knew who had done it; only there was no proof. Three miles out of what TrueForm considered the "civilised" residential band was Colt Academy. It was the same type of boarding school that TrueForm professed to be— in the sense that it catered for the gifted— only cheaper. Much cheaper. Because of the obvious social class difference the schools had been rivals since birth. They took their hatred out on each other in any way they could and a CrissCross tournament was a prime opportunity. It probably caused some ructions that TrueForm was hosting.

He picked up the note, scrunched it into a ball and tossed it into the wire bin beside his desk. Today would be his first CrissCross lesson with Dean. He wondered if it was going to be as awkward as he was expecting it to be.

Unhooking his brown leather satchel from the back of the door, he swung it over his head and left his room.

The corridor was bustling with the usual early morning activity. Students rushed about, some half dressed with tooth brushes wedged in their mouths. Others murmured complaints of tiredness and headaches. Castiel suddenly remembered there had been a party last night in which most of the school had attended.

He weaved his way through the masses, hands firmly in his pockets. Despite the crowd the air was scented with cherry blossom, the cleaner's choice of freshener, wood polish and newly vacuumed carpets. The corridors at TrueForm were cleaned every morning without fail. Fluted doorframes polished to shine, crimson and royal blue carpet with a golden yellow trim, fluffy and dust free. It was impressive but for the price of accommodation and tuition at TrueForm, it should have been.

Castiel's fingers glided over the smooth banister as he walked downstairs and into the entryway. He was almost outside when he bumped straight into Dean Winchester. Dean's hands flew up to unnecessarily steady him. "Sorry," breathed Dean. "Didn't see you."

Castiel recoiled from the touch, peeling himself away. "It's fine," he replied and made to move around him but was stopped again by a hand on his arm. Castiel grumbled. He didn't say anything but the displeasure must have shown on his face because Dean's cheeks flushed red and he instantly released Castiel, stepping backwards.

Castiel felt a small stab of guilt. "Did you need something?"

"I was. . ." Dean looked away, his brow furrowing. When he met Castiel's eyes again they were harder, less open. "I was making sure you weren't going to bail on me tonight. I don't want to be waiting around for you when I could be training with someone else."

"Why would I? I want to win just as much as you do, if not more."

"Yeah. Well. Just checking." He cleared his throat.

What an unnecessary conversation, thought Castiel. Was Dean mentally competent? Castiel stared up at him, not caring about the mixture of incredulity and judgement on his face. "Is that all?"

Dean's handsome features twisted into a grimace. "Yes."

"Good," said Castiel and walked past him. Their shoulders brushed as he went.

* * *

EIC (short for Energy Interpretation and Control) was a lesson which focused solely on how to use and improve "gifts" and Castiel was always mentally drained afterwards. The lesson was about control. It aimed to build each student's stamina and tap into powers they couldn't access or didn't know they had. On Castiel's part most of the hour was spent manipulating a glob of water. Others had to do more monotonous things. Chuck Shurley for example, a boy who could see into the future (to a certain degree), had to guess what card would come up next in an ordinary stack of playing cards.

Castiel was sitting in the corner, in his usual seat away from everyone else, rotating a sphere of water around his finger like the earth orbited the sun. He rested it on his fingertip. It sat like a tiny water balloon, its almost invisible skin creasing in the ridge of his nail. With a flick of finger over thumb, the droplet flew away.

Glancing at Mrs Harvelle who was helping a student with long claws sharpen them with his mind, Castiel turned his attention to the window. Beyond its gleaming glass the sky was utterly absent of clouds. Blue. Not a raindrop to even hope for.

He sucked in a slow breath through the nose, warmth spread across his chest and his heart skipped over a beat. On the horizon solemn grey-blue puffs of vapour thickened and rolled forth, crackling with energy. He drew the clouds closer until the sun was hidden behind a veil of water vapour and doused the school in shadows. Just as he was about to release the stormy pressure swarming in the sky, his name was called.

Castiel's eyes flicked to a pale, blonde girl. Joanna Harvelle. Mrs Harvelle's daughter.

She nodded at the window. "That's cool."

Castiel didn't answer. He unclenched his stomach and the clouds dissipated revealing a blue sky once again.

"I've never seen you do that before," she said casually. Her chair was reversed, arms resting on the back of it, straddling the seat.

"That's because I haven't done it in front of anyone before," replied Castiel, drawing out a snake of liquid from the plastic cup on his desk and rolling it like dough between his fingers and the wooden surface.

"What else can you do?"

"Everything your mother has told you I can do and more." Slightly below the belt, thought Castiel. Mrs Harvelle had received some criticism over the past couple of years for apparently supplying her daughter with information about the strengths and weaknesses of gifted classmates. It wasn't illegal to do so but the exact capabilities of students were confidential and discretion was preferred. Not that it mattered. There had been no foundation to the rumour. Idle gossip but offensive nonetheless to a family like the Harvelles who prided themselves on honesty and loyalty.

Joanna Harvelle had a bit of fire in her like her mother, so when Castiel glanced up he expected backlash from his comment.

Surprisingly, she was smiling. "I can see why you don't have any friends."

Castiel couldn't explain why her comment hurt. He didn't want friends. He shouldn't care. "No, you don't. You assume."

"Assumptions aren't all bad especially when they're right."

"Assumptions are either wrong or impolite. There is no in between."

"So, when I see the sun outside and I assume it's day, and not night, that means I'm wrong? Or am I just being impolite to the sun?" she said sardonically.

"That isn't an assumption. That is a fact."

"There's a difference?"

"Assumption . The act of taking for granted, or supposing a thing without proof." He coiled the water around his finger. "Fact. The assertion or statement of a thing done or existing."

Castiel rolled the water into a ball. Jo's hand shot out and covered the sphere with her palm. When she removed it steam rose from the table and the water had disappeared.

"You evaporated my class work," said Castiel.

Jo shrugged. "You deserved it. You're a bit of an asshole, you know?" she said. "Try to tone down that douchey attitude a bit when you see Dean later today."

"What does Dean have to do with this?"

Jo rolled her eyes. "Just be nice to him. Okay?"

* * *

Dean was fucking nervous.

It felt like a date even though it definitely wasn't a date. He was pretty sure now that Castiel hated his guts. But that was fine. Whatever. It was his opinion. Dean could live with that. . .

Okay, no, he couldn't, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Dean was who he was. He couldn't give himself a personality transplant to suit Castiel and he didn't even know what type of guy Castiel was into. And even if he did, Dean couldn't pretend to be someone he wasn't. What if Castiel liked the overly sensitive, The-Note-Book-made-me-cry douche bag that brought light beer to a party and wore mittens when it was cold? Dean could never be _that _guy. And what if Castiel didn't even like men?! He could be into big breasted blonde women with pouty lips and swaying hips.

The back of Dean's head hit the wall and he groaned, closing his eyes to the sun. He shouldn't change for just a lay anyway. But Dean knew if they did fuck it wouldn't be just the one time. Dean would want it again and again. He knew it. With Castiel, if would never be "just a lay."

"Have you injured yourself?"

Dean's eyes snapped open to find Castiel looking down at him. Although he was silhouetted against the bright sun, the shadows hiding his features, Dean could tell it was him by the refreshing smell of rain.

"No. Just enjoying the sun," said Dean, standing up.

Castiel looked ridiculously good. As usual. He was dressed in a soft green t-shirt and sweats, hair ruffled in an I've-just-rolled-out-of-bed kind of way. For a change, his eyes were a solid blue. A kind of steel grey blue, lacking any real colour and missing its usual stormy sea quality. _What did that mean?_

"You looked like you were in pain," stated Castiel.

"That's my pleasure face," said Dean, turning his back on him and taking off his jacket. "It's how I look when I come. In case you wanted to know."

"I didn't."

"Here," said Dean and tossed him the rubber disk.

Castiel sagged a little when he caught it with both hands. "This is heavier than I thought it would be."

"Yeah, I know. Most people don't realise how much weight it has." From his school bag he dug out a terrible sketch he had drawn the night before of a CrissCross court. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before he moved in close to Castiel. Purely by close proximity, his cock was interested. Dean tried to keep as much distance between them without looking like a moron and holding the sketch out at arm's length. "This is a CrissCross court. It's split into five boxes on the ground and four on the two walls." He pointed to the long rectangle in the middle separating the boxes. "This is called the Negative. Step on it, fall on it, drop the disk in it and you're out."

"Just like that?" asked Castiel, looking up at Dean and, _fuck,_ his _eyes_.

Dean's stomach was somersaulting. Staring fixedly at the sketch, he said, "Yeah. It's pretty hard to do once you get used to it so don't worry about that. Anyway, these four boxes are for the players. Two either side. Each player has to stay in their own box. If you step into mine or if I step into yours then we lose a point. Same goes for the other team. These," he pointed to the large painted yellow circles on walls of the court they were standing in, "are the targets. The aim of the game is to hit both of your opponent's targets three times. That's six direct hits you've got to make. Hold this."

He gave Castiel the piece of paper and took the disk out of his hands. It was still warm from Castiel's touch. "Stand over there." He pointed to the box on the court opposite where he was standing. Castiel moved without hesitation. "I'm going to hit the target. Try not to flinch, okay?"

Castiel nodded, completely at ease, and Dean had to fight a smile. Was he naive or did he genuinely trust Dean not to hit him?

Dean swung his arm, flicking his wrist as he released the disk to give it a spin. It flew past Castiel in a wide arch and hit the target in the centre, rebounding and flying into Dean's waiting hand. Castiel hadn't moved at all. "Huh."

"What?" said Castiel.

"Nothing." He paused. "You've got balls, I guess."

"I have a dick too."

Dean's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Although there was a blush on Castiel's face, he was smiling. _Where the fuck had that come from?_

"Uh." Momentarily stumped, Dean had to scramble for words. "Okay. So, that," he cleared his throat, "that wasn't a goal. I just wanted you to see what it was like to have a disk thrown at you. If you move over here," he indicated to the box beside his own, "I'll show you how to score."

Once Castiel was in place, Dean said, "Try to catch it when it rebounds."

Castiel nodded and an adorable determined expression took over his face.

Again, Dean threw the disk but this time he gave it more of a spin which meant it would bounce off the wall at a greater angle. It hit the target in the centre and shot towards Castiel who flailed just a little but managed to catch it between his hands. He looked surprised for a moment then grinned at Dean like a kid who had been told he was going to Disney Land for his birthday. Castiel smiling was a sight for sore eyes. His whole face lit up, eyes crinkling, teeth on show.

Dean's heart ached. "Alright, that was half a point. To get a full point you would have to throw it at the target opposite your box and I would have to catch it. So, basically you'd just have to mirror what I did. The first team to reach three points wins."

Castiel tilted his head. "Only three points? Surely that would be easy."

"Remember three points equal _six _target hits and _six_ catches. It's much harder than it sounds. This is also going to be a Next Generation game so you'll have players with all sorts of gifts trying to intercept your throw or catch."

"I see."

"It'll probably make more sense if I show you an NG: CrissCross match. We can do that next time. Today I want to get you started on throwing the disk."

Dean showed him how to hold and release the disk. Castiel was a fast leaner and he picked up whatever Dean had to tell him with speed. The problem was the weight. Castiel just didn't have the upper body strength to throw the disk hard enough for it to rebound across to the other side of the court and into Dean's hands. He could hit the wall alright but the rebound wasn't strong enough.

On his fifteenth try, Castiel was looking forlorn. It took all of Dean's will power to stop himself from wrapping his arm around Castiel's shoulders. "Why don't you try throwing it with water?" asked Dean. "Use your mental strength rather than your physical."

Castiel licked his lips. "I suppose I could." He placed the disk on the ground and stepped back.

Not knowing what to expect, Dean retreated too.

With his arm at an acute angle from his side, Castiel rolled his wrist and slowly a clear helix of water began to appear, elongating and twisting like twine until he had a sort of water whip streaming from his hand. He flicked the whip at the disk. The water clung to it, wrapping around its circumference. Then, with a jerk of his arm, he lifted the disk off the court floor and flung it at the wall. It moved so quickly and powerfully that Dean didn't have a chance to react as it rebounded off the yellow target and smashed into his face.

Like Ash, Dean was knocked off his feet. His back hit the ground followed by his head. It cracked against the tarmac with a dull _thud_.

"DEAN!"

Because of his gift Dean's pain threshold was much higher than an average person's. He was also sturdier and harder to injure which was lucky because if anyone else had been on the receiving end of a throw like that they could have been killed.

"Dean!" shouted Castiel again, suddenly at his side.

Dean opened his blurry, watery eyes, blinking up at Castiel who was panic-stricken. His eye colour had changed again. They were bluer than before and a dark hue swirled like smoke in their depths. Dean groaned.

"Dean, say something. Are you alright?"

"We're going to kick so much ass," he managed to croak. If Castiel could throw like that in the tournament they'd be unstoppable. No one could block that. Not even Dean.

Castiel huffed. "I thought I'd killed you."

"I'm pretty hard to kill."

"That doesn't justify it," muttered Castiel.

"You know, Cas, you need to lighten up a bit," said Dean, sitting up.

"Cas," repeated Castiel.

Shortening his name had been an accident but Dean went with it anyway. "Yeah. Saves breath, doesn't it? You can be a one syllable man like me." He grinned.

Reluctantly, Castiel's lips tugged into a smile. "Who says I'd want to be like you?"

"Have you _met _me?" exclaimed Dean.

Castiel's answering laugh was an awesome sound.


	3. Chapter 3

_The street was empty. Its residents were safely tucked away for the night in preparation for the impending rainstorm. Clouds loomed on the horizon like the Grim Reaper might before sweeping down to take another soul to the afterlife._

_A crack of thunder and a roll of energy and finally the rain began to fall in heavy earth pounding drops. It fell in sheets, drenching the street. Water poured down the drains, raced through gutters. It spilled across the rooftops and left tiles glittering in the fluorescent light of the street lamps. _

_Shhaaaaaa_

_Down the rain fell, heavier. Each icy cold droplet crystal clear. The sheer volume of noise wasn't to be believed. An orchestra of rain falling through the air and hitting rooftops and car hoods and swing sets and footballs left outside by the same children that were watching the storm crackle angrily above their house. _

_Shhaaaaaa_

_Another boom of thunder then something happened. Consciousness. Ripped from the serenity of ignorance and thrown into a cold bath of confusion and awareness. _

_He opened his eyes. He had hands and arms. He was naked, human and alone. What was this place? What had happened? What was he? Where was he? The ground was cold beneath his body, as cold as the rain falling from the sky._

_Twin lights appeared in the distance. They drew nearer, cutting through the downpour, closer and closer until he had to shield his new eyes with his new arm from the brightness of the beams. A door opened and someone stepped out._

"Cas. Hellooo. _Cas!_"

Castiel blinked. Soft, waning light streamed in through the square window framed by red curtains. It warmed his hands. He lifted his eyes from his lap to find Dean looking at him, eyebrows raised. Oh. Of course. He was in Dean's room.

"You still with me?"

"Yes. Sorry." Castiel rubbed his eyes but the images stayed there, painted on the back of his lids. He hadn't thought about that night in a long time. "I'm fine," Castiel added when Dean continued to look at him dubiously. "Have you got the video?"

"Yeah, I've put the DVD in. Uh, the match is about two hours long."

"Okay," said Castiel, fingers grazing his lips absentmindedly. He could almost taste the rain.

"What I mean is, your ass might go numb on that chair. You can sit on the bed with me, if you want to?"

The chair was simple, smooth and wooden like all of the chairs in all of TrueForm's student rooms. It was hardly uncomfortable. "No, thank you."

"Dude, seriously, if you sit on that for longer than ten minutes you'll lose all sensation in your ass, I swear."

Castiel conceded. Only because he thought Dean's reasoning was genuine. Settling on the bed next to him, at a polite distance, he nodded to screen where the DVD menu had appeared. "Do you have all of the CrissCross games on DVD?"

"Are you serious? Starting from when? The dawn of time?" said Dean, chuckling. "Nah. Just the few I thought were awesome. This match is between the Blitz and the Cutters."

"Who're they?"

Dean slanted a look at him and smiled and just like yesterday, Castiel marvelled at its attractiveness. After the disk had smashed into Dean's face and Castiel fretted that he was going to get arrested for murder, Dean had said "Cas" and smiled at him. He had given Castiel a cheeky grin that had made his tummy dance with butterflies. The one he was giving Castiel now wasn't at all cheeky. It was soft, just a tiny tilt of his lips, a spark of something akin to affection in his eyes. Two vastly difference smiles and yet both made Castiel a little dizzy.

"Los Angeles and Washington," clarified Dean.

Castiel nodded. It was a relief to have the screen to look at when the game started and not Dean's face, though he was tempted. He wanted to see him smile again.

"Okay, this here, this is how they decide who gets to throw first. The ref tosses the disk at that silver ball where that guy in grey is standing. Because the ball is spinning it can go in either direction and whoever catches it on the rebound goes first. See? The Cutters caught it so they go first."

Castiel was mildly horrified. "That. . .that man is a _lizard._" While growing up Castiel had seen a lot of what was socially acceptable to refer to as Next Generation people. In other words people who had a little something extra in their blood. However, he had never seen a complete body transformation before. It was both impressive and scary.

"Yeah," said Dean, laughing. "It's a Next Generation game. I told you."

"Does that mean anyone can play? No matter what skills they have?"

"Pretty much. Although I think there's a rule for super speed. Like they have to have a top speed of less than 50mph." Dean scrunched up his face. "Actually it might be more than that. I can't remember."

The first thing Castiel noticed about CrissCross was that it was very fast paced. How the audience kept track of what was happening was a mystery to Castiel. The disk flew back and forth, back and forth, occasionally hitting the yellow marker on the wall, which unlike the school's perfunctory painted circles, was electronic and _beeped_ when it was hit.

"What ability does the man with tattoos have?" asked Castiel, admiring his physique. He wore a helmet so his face was hidden by a visor but the rest of him was impressive. He had completed some skilful somersaults and back-flips to block the disk from hitting the wall.

"That's Mark Masters. He's normal. No special powers."

"He isn't next generation?" exclaimed Castiel. Then his display of acrobatics was doubly impressive. Castiel couldn't take his eyes off the way he moved. He was so fluid, so strong, so. . .

Castiel's skin warmed. He could feel himself becoming interested and immediately tried to beat it down.

"Do, uh, d'you like him?"

"He's very talented," said Castiel vaguely.

"No, I mean, do you _like_ him."

Hearing the change in tone, Castiel turned his head, planning to switch subjects, but when he did, Dean's face coloured with surprise. "What?" asked Castiel.

"Your eyes have changed again."

Feeling self-conscious, Castiel looked away. He folded his arms. "They do that a lot."

There was a tiny pause then, "How come?"

Castiel exhaled through his nose. "Because of the amount of energy flowing through my body. If it's disrupted or altered then my irises change shade."

"Disrupted by what?"

"Many things." He wasn't going to go into the particulars of being the descendant of a rain god. Especially not with someone like Dean Winchester.

"Like what?"

A spike of annoyance. "Why do you need to know?"

"Jeez, calm down, man. I was only asking," said Dean, holding up his hands.

"You weren't _only asking_. No one _only asks_. They demand information and if you don't give it willingly they take it without permission. What is it with you people?" The room suddenly darkened. Clouds had crept in from the North and were crowding the school, blocking out the light. He tried to control the storm but it was difficult with the emotions raging within him. There was so much energy locked in his body with no outlet that it was a wonder he was able to keep it all in. He felt ready to explode.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Why do you have to know everything there is about me? Why are you so intrusive? I just want to be left alone!" yelled Castiel.

Dean looked astounded. "I'm your team mate, Cas. I'm supposed to be intrusive. Whatever the fuck that means."

"It means you're _invading _my _life_," snapped Castiel as he scrambled off the bed.

"Where are you going?!"

"I'm leaving."

"The game hasn't even finished yet, hey!" Dean grabbed his arm.

"Don't touch me!" Fiery hot anger bust inside Castiel. He snatched his arm away and aimed his fury at his "team mate". Throwing his hand out, palm facing Dean, he shot a bolt of electricity directly at his chest. Dean was thrown into his bedroom wall.

The answering crack of plaster, brick and bone brought Castiel to earth with a crash. What had he done?

Dean was slumped against the broken perimeter of his room, breathing heavily.

He had attacked someone! If Dean hadn't been resilient he could have been killed. Twice. Twice Castiel had almost killed Dean. And what if Dean was seriously injured? What if he died? Castiel was moments away from checking to see if he was alright when Dean raised his head. He had _teeth_. Not regular human teeth either. Huge teeth that pushed out from between his lips. His eyes were glowing with rage. He leapt off the bed with a roar worthy of any lion and Castiel fell backwards, falling hard onto his ass.

Dean towered over him. His hands had changed into golden paws with dreadfully sharp claws. Peeling back his lip, Dean displayed his fangs in a menacing snarl. He pointed a claw at Castiel. "Do that again," growled Dean, his voice rolled over gravel, "and I'll turn you into dog meat."

Castiel's fear and shock disintegrated into dust. What was left morphed into anger. "Don't threaten me."

"I should do more than that after what you just did."

"Go ahead and try it," whipped Castiel.

Dean's disgust didn't waver but his teeth shrank to normal human size. "What is it with you? Why don't you like being touched? Why don't you like people knowing stuff about you? Why are you so. . ._angry_? I thought we had a good time yesterday."

"I'm not looking for a good time, Dean," said Castiel, standing up and straightening his clothes. "And you shouldn't feel the need to give me one. You're not a prostitute."

"No, you're not looking for anything are you? Just a fucking rain stone."

"This was an arrangement. A deal. Nothing more."

"Was? So, what, you're backing out?"

"It's clear we're not going to get along—"

"Are you serious? There isn't a freaking soul in this building that'll train you for the CrissCross tournament!"

"You're not the only person here willing to team up with me for money."

"Money that you'll have to win first and you haven't got a _chance_ of winning without me."

Unfortunately, Dean was right. He didn't have a chance. But he was too angry to relent and admit that he was wrong. He turned to leave, stumbling to a halt when he saw a boy in the doorway looking uncomfortable.

"Sam?" Dean's voice had softened considerably.

Castiel glanced between them.

"Is everything alright?" asked Sam.

"Yeah. We were just. . .talking. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you could give me a ride downtown. I need some new shoes."

"What happened to the ones you've got now?"

Castiel picked that moment to leave. He slid past Sam at the door, feeling Dean's eyes on him, and turned down the hallway in the direction of his room.

* * *

Dean watched Cas go with gritted teeth. Of all the people to fall for, it had to be _Castiel _fucking _Novak, _the craziest, angriest douche in the whole of TrueForm. What was _with _him? Every time Dean touched him he could literally see the anger rise in Cas's face like he had slapped his ass. He might as well have. Although, come to think of it, if Cas's reaction to being touched was to shoot a lightning bolt at him, which, by the way, was a huge revelation for Dean –where the fuck had Cas learned that from? – he would probably kill Dean if Dean actually did something offensive like grope him.

"I lost one. Was that Castiel Novak?" said Sam.

"Yes," he growled, snatched his jacket from the chair beside his desk and pushed Sam out of the door.

Tension continued to thrum through as they made their way to the Impala- not the '62 Chevy that he still held close to his heart. It was a 1967 Chevy Impala, a car that had belonged to his dad but was Dean's now. He supposed it was a present for leaving home so soon.

Light rain fell from the dull, grey sky. Only moments ago it had been sunny and cloudless and now, as soon as Dean had stepped outside, he was getting wet. It was as though fate was giving him the middle finger.

"What happened to your bedroom wall?" asked Sam once he had his seatbelt on.

"Nothing," muttered Dean.

"Did Castiel do something?"

"It's nothing. It was just about . . ." He plucked an excuse from the air. "Homework."

"Dean, you don't do homework. Did you ask him out?"

"Why the fuck would I do that? C'mon, _move_!" he yelled, honking his horn at the old woman trying to manoeuvre her crappy Ford Fiesta into an available parking space. "You've got ten feet of freaking space, woman!"

"You've liked him since we first moved here."

"How the hell did you know that?"

"I have eyes, Dean."

Dean pushed a harsh breath out from between his lips. "Whatever."

TrueForm had its own school wear chain store called TrueForm Clothing and Footwear— imaginative name. The store was pretty small considering there was an actual TrueForm school only a few blocks away and nearly every student in the academy needed to order their uniform from there. It was wedged between Francis Sporting Goods and an old fortune teller shop called Psychic Zelda. Dean pulled the Impala up under the glowing lights of "Tarot Card Reading" and cut the engine. "Hurry up then."

"I need some money."

Dean sighed, shoving his hand into his pocket. "How the hell did you lose a fucking shoe anyway?"

"Dirk MacGregor threw it into the trees by the Murbach field. I looked for it but I couldn't find it."

"MacGregor. That asshole. He's going to eating his meals through a straw when I get my hands on him."

"I can fix my own problems, Dean. Forget it. Can I have some money please?"

Dean tossed a few twenties at his brother. "I want change."

While he was tapping the steering wheel with his thumb, waiting for Sam to return, he stared vacantly at the rain dropping in random patterns on the windscreen. Splats of water slipped down the glass and merged with other splats. Would Cas really back out of their deal? He hoped not. He would give anything to see him again even if it meant getting electrocuted. Dean huffed, sinking low in the driver's seat. He closed his eyes and pictured Cas's face, his change in eye colour – blueberry blue— and that stomach tightening scent of lust. Being a Predator, he was able to smell both lust and anger because they increased blood pressure and body temperature. And he was pretty damn sure Cas had been turned on by Mark Masters which was awesome because that meant Cas liked guys but also not so awesome because it meant Cas liked tattoos. Dean didn't have a tattoo.

He opened his eyes. His gaze slid to the building three stores down. _Demon Ink_.

Dean chewed his lip. He popped open the glove box and fished out his fake ID.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel opened the door to Dean's face the next day.

"We need to talk," he said.

Ignoring him, Castiel exited his room. It swung shut behind him, locking itself. "What do you suppose we're doing now?"

Dean followed Castiel who set a fast pace down the hallway. "Can we ditch the attitude?"

"I don't know. Can we?"

"Stop being a jerk. Look, the qualifiers are two weeks away. We need to practice or we're not going to get through to the first round."

"We?"

"Yes, we!" snapped Dean, stomping down the stairs a few steps behind him. "We had a deal. We need to practice, Cas!"

Once through the heavily ornate double doors, Castiel was breathing in fresh air, walking the gravel path which hugged the student accommodation building and led across the grounds to the main part of the school.

"Cas, wait up!"

Castiel knew how impolite and nasty he was being but he just couldn't stop himself. He didn't even know why he was doing it. It was illogical and ironic really. Dean didn't need Castiel at all. He could partner with Jo and win the tournament. Castiel was the one who desperately needed the help. Despite that, he was pushing his only chance of getting a rain stone away from him. He knew his attitude didn't make sense, he knew his attitude towards Dean wasn't helping his cause. He knew it and yet. . . "I have to get to class. I'm late."

"No. We need to—Cas! For god's sake," Dean yelled.

To prevent him from catching his arm again though he really didn't think Dean would try to, Castiel stopped and turned round, preparing to fire off another unfair remark when something caught his eye – the bunching of Dean's school shirt. He looked down at Dean's chest. Underneath the thin material was a square bandage. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Like a switch had been flicked, Dean looked uncomfortable. "No."

"What is that?" asked Castiel pointing to it as if Dean wasn't already aware of what he was talking about.

"Nothing."

"That's a bandage." Had Dean been seriously hurt by Castiel's attack? The bandage was on his chest. What if he had been burnt by the bolt Castiel had fired at him? But if that was the case, why was he hiding it? He shouldn't even be talking to Castiel after what had happened. It had been a vicious attack, nothing less than an unprovoked assault which Castiel hadn't apologised for. He hadn't even been polite to Dean. Guilt made his stomach twist. Whatever animosity he felt for Dean deteriorated. "I'm—I'm sorry. For what happened yesterday." He met Dean's gaze. "You didn't deserve it."

Dean's surprise was blatant. He forced a laugh. "Hey, I'm still alive, right?"

Castiel nodded. "We can practice."

"After school?" said Dean, a broad smile beginning to light his face. Maybe there _was _something seriously wrong with Dean. If Castiel's company made him happy perhaps a CAT scan was in order.

"After school," agreed Castiel.

* * *

At lunch time, while sitting in the far corner, Castiel found himself scanning the cafeteria for Dean. He chewed on a slice of raw carrot, Moby Dick lying open on his table beside his lunch tray. Since their conversation that morning, he was resolved to be nicer to Dean. Being nice didn't automatically mean they had to be friends. Castiel could talk to him and be nice and still keep him at arm's length. He just had to control his emotions a little better which was difficult when he essentially had a storm contained within him.

As his eyes travelled the room, they fell on a pair already fixed upon him. Chuck Shurley's heavy lidded blue eyes widened when Castiel met his gaze and dropped to the table. Castiel tilted his head. He wasn't very good at reading social cues let alone trying to understand what was hidden behind a single glance, so he didn't bother trying.

Giving up on looking for Dean he finished off the rest of his meal, picked up his book and left the cafeteria.

The picnic bench he had chosen to sit at outside was wet. He flicked his hand shooing the water away and sat in the dry spot, opening his book and carrying on from where he left off.

In any school being alone was socially frowned upon by its students and TrueForm was no exception. It was considered strange to distance yourself from the rest of the school. As such, the school alienated itself from Castiel. He was left completely alone. He supposed it was because his skin was clear and he wasn't drastically overweight and therefore an easy target for name calling that he wasn't bullied.

Sometimes he wondered if the students at TrueForm saw him as an anomaly, a twisted piece of plastic in otherwise smooth, generic packaging. He didn't mind being the anomaly. At least he hadn't up until very recently. He found himself getting distracted though, like he was now from the text on the page, and craving a little interaction. He wondered if he had been tainted by Dean. Tainted in the sense that he had a small taster of what it was like to have a friend and he wanted more.

Since falling to earth he had never had a friend. He had never wanted a friend. All he had wanted was to return home to the sky and that's what he planned to do. As soon as he had his hands on the rain stone he was going to use its power to return to the sky.

His tummy clenched. The sky. A place he didn't have to work at to fit in. A place with no eyes to throw judgement and no mouths to whisper gossip. He was safe in the sky amongst the clouds. There was no consciousness. Only a vague sense of tranquil reality that tickled him now and then like a warm shot of alcohol would slide down his human throat.

The bench creaked and Castiel was pulled out his reverie. A boy of a similar age who Castiel didn't recognise had appeared. He had brown hair and hazel eyes and a smirk that spelled mischief. There was no mischief to be had in Castiel's company though.

"Can I help you?" asked Castiel in confusion.

"I don't know. Can you?" said the boy.

Castiel squinted. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I. But that's life, huh?" The boy beamed.

"I'm trying to read."

"I'm still trying to read too, that's why I drew pictograms all over my school schedule." He showed Castiel a bedraggled TrueForm schedule with doodles littering the page. There was a map with it too. The boy peeked at him over the top of it. "See?"

"You're new here," deduced Castiel.

"Ding, ding, ding! You're smart, aren't you? I can tell. That's my gift."

"Your gift is ability to see the obvious?" said Castiel sceptically.

"Hah! I see what you did there."

"Is it?"

"No."

"What is it then?"

"You want to know?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

"Maybe you wanted to be polite."

"I'm not polite."

"Yeah, I got that."

Castiel huffed. "Please leave me alone," he said and returned to his book hoping the boy would understand.

"But I haven't got any friends," said the boy, suddenly appearing at his side.

Castiel jumped, his heart thudding. Their arms were touching. The boy was practically squashed up against Castiel. He glared at the lack of space between them. "You can teleport."

The boy disappeared and reappeared cross legged on the table top. "I said you were smart, didn't I?" He grinned.

The bell signalling the end of lunch time rang across the grounds. "I'm sorry you haven't got any friends," said Castiel getting up. "But I don't want a friend. I prefer to be alone."

"You looked pretty lonely to me," called the boy as Castiel walked away.

"Well, I'm not," he replied curtly.

"I'll see you around!"

"Don't bet on it," muttered Castiel.

* * *

After school Dean waited on the CrissCross courts in the same place he had waited last time. He had the disk ready and was tossing it between his hands when he saw the familiar face of his crush walking across the court.

"Hey," said Dean, aiming for neutral.

Cas smiled and it looked genuine. "Hi."

That made a change, thought Dean.

When Cas reached him he said, "What're we doing today?"

"We'll practice throwing and catching on a rebound today. Tomorrow I'll show you how to block. I wanted to do that tonight but I forgot to ask Coach Campbell if we could borrow a few helmets and pads."

"Okay," said Cas, sliding out of a light black jacket.

Dean's eyes automatically flirted over Castiel's arms, chest and waist. As usual, Castiel was oblivious to the eying up. Sometimes he wondered if Cas was even slightly aware of how attractive Dean found him because he wasn't exactly subtle when he stared openly at Castiel's crotch and ass. "Take this," said Dean, handing him the disk. "We'll pass it to each other using the wall."

They took their positions in two of the four squares. "Try to use less power this time," he said as Castiel created his water whip. "You want to hit a good speed. Fast enough that your opponent can't block it and slow enough that it doesn't smash my skull in." He saw the little curve of Castiel's lips and found himself smiling too.

Apparently Cas had had a change of heart if the way he was treating Dean while they tossed the disk at the wall and took turns catching it was anything to go by. Castiel was quiet for most of it. His usual snarky and cynical responses were nonexistent. He seemed much calmer. It was noticeable not only in his body language but his eyes too. They were a soft, baby blue. Irises as calm and as flat as a millpond. There wasn't a storm in sight.

Dean was reluctant to break the good atmosphere but shoot him he was curious. "What's going on with you?" said Dean, catching the disk when Cas slung it at the wall with one of his water whips.

"What do you mean?"

"You're quiet and, uh, happy? I guess."

Castiel smiled. "You guess?"

Dean huffed, laughing. "I don't know what you look like when you're happy! You could be post sleep post beat for all I know."

Cas caught the disk and turned to him, amusement turning his often sour face into visual aphrodisiac. Christ, he was hot.

"What is post sleep post beat?" asked Cas.

Dean licked his lips, matching his smile and sauntering closer. Cas surprised Dean by not stepping back when they were a couple of feet apart. "You know, after you've been beating it," he made the universal masturbation gesture. "You come and you sleep for a bit and when you wake up you feel so fucking relaxed, stress free," he shrugged, "little bit stoned maybe depending on how good it was."

As Dean predicted they would, Cas's cheeks pinked but he didn't look too embarrassed. "I don't masturbate."

Dean stared. "What?"

"I don't masturbate."

Dean tried to process that. His brain rejected it. "You _don't_ jerk off?!"

"No."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No," said Castiel around a laugh.

Dean studied his face. "You're telling the truth?"

"Yes. I promise. Why would I lie?"

"Holy shit. No wonder you're cranky! Fuck me, Cas, how're you still walking around?"

Castiel rolled his lips into his mouth and shrugged. It was fucking adorable.

"Seriously, I've never heard of a guy not spanking it and you're what, 17? Do you have a really low sex drive or are you just not interesting in doing it? Maybe you just need to watch some porn. What turns you–"

The light, easy expression Castiel had been holding was tensing up again and for once Dean knew that it was time to shut up. Cas had told him something though. Something private. If that wasn't progress he didn't know what was. "C'mon we'll switch and you can try throwing from the other side."

Castiel nodded, his shoulders relaxing. They practiced for three hours. Dean spent most of it picturing Castiel tugging on his dick which unfortunately caught the attention of his own dick. He had to play half hard and he knew he was going to be spanking it all night over Cas but that didn't bother him. In fact, he was looking forward to it.


	5. Chapter 5

"So how's the training going?" asked Jo on Saturday.

Dean had spent a week and a half, total, with Castiel. As a team they were good, technically they worked well together, as for anything more than that – Dean wasn't reaching for the stars here, even friendship would do – it was pretty much nonexistent. Cas seemed to just about tolerate him which he supposed was an improvement from hatred.

He shrugged, mouth stuffed full of food. "Alright, I guess."

They were sitting at the back of one of the workshop outbuildings on the steps with a tray full of stolen chicken burgers. Ash had a talent for theft since he had the ability to switch one thing for another without having to physically touch it. He had refined his gift to hack electrical stuff, namely computers and game consoles. It was thanks to Ash that Dean could have Xbox live and the latest COD free of charge.

"He's so up and down though," said Dean after a thought. "One minute he's fine, we're having a laugh and the next," he clicked his fingers, "he's firing laser beams at me through his eyes."

"Whoa, he can do Superman shit?" said Ash.

"Nah. I was exaggerating."

Ash's shoulders slumped.

"What exactly can he do?" asked Jo.

Swallowing a chunk of burger, Dean wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Make water out of nothing, manipulate my drink, throw lightning bolts. . . Pretty sure he can change the weather too."

"I've seen him do that," said Jo.

"Yeah?"

Jo nodded. "He was staring out of the window during EIC and clouds suddenly just swept in."

"I think it might be attached to his mood. He was pissed at me the other day and it started to thunder. His eyes change with his mood too. It's so weird," said Dean.

"What, like a mood ring?" said Jo, smirking.

"Seriously! If he's mad they go a stormy grey colour and start shifting and changing shades. If he's relaxed they'll turn into a type of flat, clear blue. I can tell how his whole day has gone by just looking at his eyes and checking the sky."

"Well, it's really sunny today. He must be in a damn good mood," said Jo, screwing up a napkin and throwing it over her shoulder. "Speak of the devil."

Dean followed her line of sight. His stomach flipped when he spotted Cas walking across the grounds towards the quad with the new guy from Dean's English class. Castiel had his hands stuffed in his pockets as usual. He wasn't smiling but he wasn't frowning either and given the state of the sky that meant Castiel was happy. Dean scowled. _He _wanted to be the one that made Castiel happy.

"That's the new kid isn't it?" said Jo.

"Yeah. Gabriel or Gadreel," muttered Dean.

"What's he doing with Castiel?"

"Don't know, don't care." But he _did _care. He cared enough to know that Castiel had made a friend out of the newbie and had been spending most lunch times with him. Was he spending the weekend with him too?

"Sure you don't. That's why your fangs are out." Jo whistled low. "Looks like they're pretty into each other."

"Shut up," said Dean, forcing his teeth to shrink to a more manageable size. It wasn't realistic to expect to eat a burger with teeth like carving knives. "You don't know that."

"Should I switch New Guy's clothes for a chicken suit?" suggested Ash.

Dean snorted. "Knowing Cas he'd probably like it. I still can't figure out what turns him on."

"You mean he doesn't like your tattoo?" said Jo with a note of mockery in her voice. She'd actually scolded Dean for getting a tattoo on impulse and to remind him of it she ribbed him about it every day.

Dean kind of liked his tattoo even if he had done it for the wrong reasons, so he didn't really care what she thought about it. "He hasn't seen it."

"Still?!"

"It's really cool, man," said Ash. "You should show it to him. He'd probably want to screw your brains out if he saw it. I know I do and I'm not even gay."

Dean chuckled. "Thanks."

"Go and talk to him," said Jo.

"And say what?"

"You're his teammate. You don't need an excuse."

"I've tried that before," replied Dean, shaking his head. "It always ends badly. He doesn't like being approached."

Jo clicked her tongue. "Why do you even like him? He's horrible and he's not that attractive."

Dean's eyebrows flew up. "Are you crazy? Seriously, are you fucking crazy? The guy is sex on legs. Christ, I'd fuck him into next week if I could."

"Looks aren't everything."

"They totally are," said Dean though he didn't really believe that. From what he had seen of Castiel's personality, when he wasn't throwing daggers at Dean, he liked. Cas was fun and intelligent and witty and arguing with him got Dean's blood pumping in a way that no one else had or was ever likely to.

Suddenly Dean's shirt burst into flames, disintegrating into dust. His skin was bare, thankfully untouched by the heat. He turned to Jo. "What the hell did you do that for?" he exclaimed.

"Get out those eagle wings and show off your tatt." She grinned. "Go woo him."

"Why my wings?"

"I've got a feeling Castiel likes them," said Jo.

"What, really? How do you know?"

She sighed. "Just go before I set your pants on fire too."

"Fine," he agreed but only because he didn't like how comfortable Castiel was getting with his new friend. Dean rose to his feet, rolling his shoulders, and a familiar heat swarmed through the muscles deep in his back. He felt wings sprout, feathers too. His vision became ten times sharper and he focused his new clarity on Castiel as he strode towards him.

* * *

The teleporting boy who Castiel couldn't get rid of had introduced himself as Gabriel Speight Jr. three days after continuously harassing Castiel at lunch times with mindless questions and riddle-esque jokes. Castiel had finally put his foot down and demanded to know the boy's name since he didn't appear to be leaving anytime soon.

He would appear at random, completely unannounced which would have been irritating enough without having his lunchtime interrupted by constant chatter too. Gabriel didn't quite trail after Castiel enough to get on his dangerous side but he certainly was annoying to the extent that a throbbing headache was born during his visits.

The peculiar thing was, however, that sometimes when he wasn't spending time with Dean and Gabriel wasn't verbally gnawing on his ear, the silence was uncomfortable like it had never been before. Although he hated the inane chatter and interaction, Gabriel provided entertainment, something different to break up the cemented routine of school life. And, horror of horrors, by the time the week was up, Castiel was beginning to enjoy his companionship.

On Saturday he was on his way to the library, planning to cut through the quad, when naturally Gabriel appeared at his side.

"Cassie!"

Castiel sighed melodramatically; although he wasn't surprised or put out he liked to keep up appearances. "Gabriel."

"Where're you going? I heard there's a party tonight. Can we go? I can get us tequila!" he sang.

"You can go. I won't be going," said Castiel. He was planning on practicing alone for the tournament. After all, the qualifiers as Dean so often reminded him were only a couple of days away and he wanted practice as much as possible.

"What?! But I've been here for two weeks and I haven't been to a party yet!"

"I'm not stopping you."

"But I don't want to go alone," said Gabriel pouting. "Hey, maybe we should dress up. Think I could get a Ghostbusters costume at short notice?"

"Ghostbusters?" Castiel hadn't heard of it. He assumed it was a film.

"Yeah, I want to squirt my ectoplasm over some hottie with a dick the size of New England."

"That's disgusting."

"Urg, don't you want to get laid? Feels like I haven't had sex in years."

"Gabriel. You're seventeen. You shouldn't have even had sex. At least not the perverse sex you seem to enjoy."

"Such a prude. Sex isn't perverse. It's delicious. Like candy. You should do it with Deanie. Ya'know, since you've got that big crush on him."

Castiel's footsteps stuttered. He almost tripped up. Throwing Gabriel a dark look, he said, "Don't be ridiculous. And don't call him Deanie. He's an athlete not a little girl with braids. He's strong and an excellent CrissCross player." Castiel's lips thinned as he watched his own feet pace across the grass. "He also has an impressive amount of patience."

Castiel had lost his temper a couple of times with Dean over the past week for no reason. Dean hadn't touched him—he hadn't laid a finger on him since Castiel had shot lightning into his chest— nor had he asked anything personal. Castiel had just been mean. If he wanted to excuse his behaviour he would say that the storm inside of him was always fraying at his nerves, putting him on edge. It was next to impossible to control. But the respect he had acquired for Dean over the past week didn't allow excuses. He was lucky that Dean was so understanding.

Gabriel rolled his eyes then perked up. "How big do you think his meat is?"

Castiel squinted. "He gets his food from the cafeteria like everyone else. I don't think he owns any meat."

"Mm, yeah I didn't mean—"

"Hey, Cas."

Castiel whirled around, spinning so fast he almost fell over. When he stumbled, Dean's hands jerked forward like he was going to catch him but he pulled back quickly. The lack of touch left behind a strange mix of disappointment and relief.

"Dean," said Castiel a little breathlessly. "Hello."

Dean gave him a small smile. It was weak by Dean's standards and Castiel was immediately curious as to what was bothering him. Then the fact that Dean was shirtless came to his attention and everything else was forgotten. He looked down at Dean's chest, his abs, then back up again at the tattoo under his collarbone that hadn't been there a couple of weeks ago. It was a circle of graphic solid black flames surrounding a star made up of single lines.

"You have a tattoo," said Castiel in surprise. His arm was half raised with the temptation to touch, to trail his fingers over the stark contrast between ink and creamy flesh. Dean's skin was pebbled with the slight breeze and his nipples were hard. Castiel imagined his body would be hot to the touch. He dropped his arm and clenched his fist.

"Yeah, I, uh . . .I wanted one," said Dean.

"Well, it'd be stupid to get one because you didn't," said Gabriel.

Castiel gave him a look.

"What? Just pointing out the obvious."

"If it was obvious then we didn't need it pointing out."

"Calm down, baby cakes." Gabriel held up his hands. "I know when I'm not wanted. The sexual tension is driving me crazy anyway," he said and disappeared.

"He's fun," said Dean.

"He won't leave me alone," said Castiel, grimacing.

"I guess we have that in common."

Castiel looked up at him quizzically, squinting in the bright daylight. "You have a reason to be with me. Gabriel just likes to annoy."

A long, beautiful wing lifted to shield Castiel's eyes from the sun. "I do?"

"You're my teammate," said Castiel distractedly. His couldn't take his eyes off Dean's wing. The golden caramel shades had burst to life in the wafer thin parts of the primary feathers. They were glowing in the heat, each vane like spun gold. Further along the wing beyond the secondary feathers were the delicate deep brown axillaries which disappeared past Dean's shoulder. Never in all Castiel's life had he so desperately wanted to touch. Dean didn't often get his wings out but when he did, Castiel was enthralled.

"You can touch if you want to," said Dean, reading precisely what was on Castiel's mind.

Castiel's eyes darted back to his face. Dean was watching him intently. For a second he was tempted to take Dean up on his offer. But he couldn't because that would disrupt the careful distance Castiel was holding him at. "No," he said, exhaling. "Did you want something?"

"Just thought I'd say hi. Guessing you're not going to Bela's party tonight?"

"No."

"C'mon, Cas, it's Saturday!"

"I need to practice," replied Castiel.

"No, you don't. You're good enough to qualify."

"I need to be good enough to _win_ not just qualify."

"Yeah, but you've got me on your team. That automatically makes you a winner," said Dean.

"I don't want to take any chances," murmured Castiel, thinking of the rain stone.

Dean sighed. "Alright. Do you want to practice together?"

"Aren't you going to the party?"

"I wasn't that bothered about it." He rubbed the back of his neck. "And practicing CrissCross all night will save me the hangover."

"If that's what you want to do, okay. I'll be on the court at seven o'clock."

* * *

Dean was already there, throwing the disk lazily at the wall and catching it, when Castiel arrived later that day. Because they technically weren't allowed on the courts after curfew the lights weren't on. Given that the sky was cloudy and grey (not Castiel's doing), only the windows from the nearest dormitory block provided enough luminance to see what they were doing.

After an hour of playing in the semi darkness Dean stopped for a drink. He uncapped the bottle of water he had brought with him and took a long swig. Castiel watched his Adam's apple bob and the silvery trail of water spilling from the corner of his mouth.

Moisture evaporated from Castiel's own mouth. He swallowed dryly. "May I have some?"

"Sure," said Dean, licking his lips. "But can't you make your own?"

"I can but to make water I have to take molecules from any available source so I could be drinking my own sweat."

Dean pulled a face and held the bottle out to him. "Nice."

Castiel nodded sagely. He didn't take the plastic bottle. Instead he twirled his fingers and a stream of water leapt from the vessel, rotated in the air and into Castiel's open mouth.

Dean laughed. "That was awesome. Kind of offended you don't want to share the same bottle though. I haven't got cooties, you know."

"I know," said Castiel.

Dean rolled his shoulders. He tilted his head to the sky, the shadows on his face disappearing. "Shame the stars aren't out."

"Why?"

"Because clouds suck. You can't see anything."

"Without clouds there wouldn't be rain and without rain there wouldn't be plants and without plants there wouldn't be animals and the Earth would die."

Dean laughed, shaking his head like Castiel had missed something. He probably had. "Yeah, I know. I don't have to like it though, do I?"

"How can you dislike the rain?" said Castiel. He should have been angry. Dean was complaining about something that made up everything Castiel was. Essentially he was insulting Castiel's very existence. Castiel _should_ have been offended. Only, he wasn't.

"Because you get wet. Makes driving a pain in the ass. I don't know."

"But water is a vital ingredient to life and when it falls from the sky it should be appreciated. Some people don't get any."

"Still makes you piss wet through though."

Castiel shook his head. "Maybe you just haven't felt it."

Dean snorted. "Pretty sure I've felt it." He made to lift the bottle to his lips again but Castiel caught his hand, trapping it between the plastic and his own.

The smile disappeared from Dean's face.

Castiel's heart was pounding though he didn't know why. He met Dean's eyes. "Feel what I feel."

From the base of his spine to the top of his skull, he allowed the energy he usually kept locked tightly away to surge forth. Above their heads the clouds thickened and grew heavy. A droplet of rain splashed onto Castiel's hand.

Another fell and another and another. In random, disorganised drips, water escaped from the sky and landed with a splatter, cleaning the air of sooty particulates and dust, collecting the toxins like individual bags. In each drop was a tiny, barely there hum of electricity which, when it hit the ground, morphed into a beat of energy.

Castiel could feel every single beat. He could feel those that fell on the cars, the roof of the dormitories, the freshly opened umbrellas of passersby. He was able to experience the water sinking into the ground, absorbing into the soil and being sucked up by swollen roots of plants. He could see worms wiggling through saturated soil, making their way to the surface, he could sense creatures smaller than the naked eye could catch, fleeing to drier crevices.

Like a giant electrical circuit vibrating with energy, every switch engaged, every wire live, he was connected to the Earth and all of its inhabitants and every sensation was being delivered to Dean where their hands touched.

Water was creeping down Dean's face. It slipped over his parted lips and Castiel could feel that too.

"Do you see?" said Castiel. "Do you feel it?"

Silently, Dean nodded. His fingers twitched underneath Castiel's and it was only then that Castiel realised his thumb was brushing back and forth over Dean's knuckles. He pulled his hand back in shock.

"I'm sorry," said Castiel, blushing.

"Don't be," he replied.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: This is such a stupid story. I don't get it and I'm the one fucking writing it.

* * *

**D. Winchester: Just relax. We'll get through. **

**D. Winchester: Don't forget you've got me with you.**

The light emitting from Castiel's cell phone was too bright in the otherwise complete darkness of his room but he didn't look away. He stared at the tiny pixels that made up the words Dean had sent. Until then Castiel hadn't bothered to text unless it was in relation to their practice sessions. It was the night before the Criss Cross qualifiers though and Castiel was feeling extremely nervous. He had only sent a vague text at 1AM suggesting that he was a little worried and Dean had immediately replied with an army of reassurances. It was. . . sweet. Castiel couldn't think of another word for it. He had been genuinely touched by Dean's concern. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to reply. How was he supposed to keep Dean both at arm's length and enjoy the comfort he was providing?

**Me: Thank you for the reassurance.**

He frowned. Through text his words sounded hollow. But what else could he have said?

The phone buzzed pleasantly in his hand.

**D. Winchester: No problem :) Text or call whenever. I don't mind. **

Castiel smiled at that. His nerves were beginning to ebb away. **Me: Even during class?**

**D. Winchester: Especially during class. Fuck me. Why the hell did I pick Chemistry?**

**Me: Because you're intelligent. **

**D. Winchester: Was that a compliment? Did you just compliment me? Holy shit. **

**Me: I've complimented you before.**

**D. Winchester: Nope. **

**Me: I have.**

**D. Winchester: Nope.**

Surely he had? Castiel had certainly been complimenting Dean behind his back. He always spoke of Dean's talents to Gabriel. Had he really not said anything of the sort to Dean's face?

**Me: Well I have now. **

**D. Winchester: I noticed. I'll mark it in my diary and surround it with hearts.**

Castiel's brows rose. **Me: You have a diary? **

**D. Winchester: I was being sarcastic, Cas.**

**Me: How am I supposed to know when you're being sarcastic through text?**

**D. Winchester: I don't know. You just do.**

**Me: Was that sarcastic?**

**D. Winchester: No.**

**Me: Was that?**

**D. Winchester: How about this, whenever I'm being sarcastic I'll put a # at the end?**

**Me: That should be sufficient. **

**D. Winchester: Good. I was worried we wouldn't find anything # **

**Me: The hash works well.**

Castiel's cheeks were aching from smiling too much. He put the tip of the phone to his mouth while he waited for Dean's response. Texting was harmless. It didn't make them friends. They weren't suddenly going to start spending time together. Texting was safe. "It's safe," he murmured to the ceiling as though that confirmed it. The screen vibrated against his lips.

**D. Winchester: There's an alligator documentary on. It's bad ass. You should watch it. **

**Me: You're not in bed?**

**D. Winchester: Yeah, I'm in bed. I can see the TV from where I am. **

Warmth rose in Castiel's cheeks. **Me: I'm sorry.**

**D. Winchester: For what? **

**Me: For asking. I didn't mean to pry.**

**D. Winchester: Haha, you can ask me anything. It's cool.**

**Me: Anything?**

**D. Winchester: Sure.**

Castiel's face was hot now and he still had no idea why. He had the strangest urge to hide under his comforter. Was he having a panic attack? Maybe it was the anxiety he was feeling for tomorrow. Only, he didn't feel nervous anymore. Heart pounding, he stared at the screen for so long that it vibrated in his hands.

**D. Winchester: There's an 800 pound alligator in Texas. I want to see it. **

**Me: Have you brushed your teeth? **

Perhaps that wasn't the best question he could have asked.

**D. Winchester: Yeah? Cas, when I said you can ask me anything I kind of expected something more interesting than that. **

**Me: Like what?**

**D. Winchester: I don't know. My dick size?**

Before Castiel could gather a single thought Dean sent another message.

**D. Winchester: I was joking. That was a joke. Don't fry me.**

Contrary to popular belief, Castiel could take a joke. He wasn't a puritan. **Me: Why would I run away? Is it that small?**

**D. Winchester: A dick joke? That's two you've made. You've got dick on the brain.**

The first "joke" on the Criss Cross court hadn't been a joke, just an observation but he supposed it had been intended to make Dean laugh. Only it hadn't made Dean laugh, it had made him blush.

**Me: You mentioned your dick first.**

**D. Winchester: See? You're still talking about it. **

**Me: I am not!**

**D. Winchester: You're not what?**

**Me: I'm not talking about your dick.**

**D. Winchester: You're still talking about it? Jeez, Cas, you're obsessed. **

**D. Winchester: Want to see it some time?**

Clearly, Dean was trying to push Castiel to get him to show how much of a prude everyone believed him to be. Well, Castiel wasn't a prude. And he would prove it. Although his face was burning up with embarrassment, he typed out a determined reply.

**Me: Yes. Shall I bring a magnifying glass? Please note the lack of hash. **

**D. Winchester: No, it's OK. You can use your hands.**

**Me: No thank you. I don't want to touch it. I don't know where it's been.**

**D. Winchester: I can tell you where it could go. **

Warmth curled down below. Castiel sank in his pillows, comforter up to his nose, peeking over the top at his phone. Dean had been joking but it had still made Castiel's skin flush and his dick stir. He couldn't afford to be attracted to Dean. On some level he had always been attracted to him, his talent, his wings, his handsome face, but it was getting a little bit out of hand if a joke could turn Castiel on.

Not knowing what to say, he locked his phone, placed it on his bedside table and rolled over. He slipped his hands under his cheek, sighing. He had to focus on tomorrow and eventually getting his hands on the rain stone. Dean might have been part of the equation but once subtracted he wouldn't be part of the answer.

* * *

Dean's room was silent except for his heavy breaths. The TV had been turned off long ago. He was lying on his back, one hand on his chest, the other tugging slow and sure on his cock.

Cas hadn't answered his last text. Dean hadn't expected him to. As soon as he'd sent it he'd known he would get radio silence from his Criss Cross partner. It didn't stop the thoughts coming in thick and fast though. Thoughts of bending Cas over his desk and ploughing his ass.

His cell was somewhere on the floor by his bed. His eyes were half closed, glazed with imaginary images of slipping his cock inside what he knew for a fact would be a tight ass. Stroking faster, he pictured how Cas' face would look flushed and damp with sweat if they fucked face to face. Cas' legs on his shoulders, that's how Dean would fuck him. So he could watch his face every time Dean's balls slapped his ass and he shoved his cock in too hard, just on the right side of painful.

How many times had he jerked off over Castiel? How many times had he pictured Cas in different positions, with different expressions, in different places, wearing different clothes but all riding Dean's cock, all moaning Dean's name?

It was sad. Kind of pathetic. And yet he couldn't stop.

Even as Dean came, fucking hard, he knew he would be doing it again in the morning when he woke up after probably another dream about Castiel naked and bouncing on Dean's dick. The repetition should have been boring. But it wasn't. The ache he had for Cas never weakened and he doubted it ever would.

* * *

On a scale of one to ten, one being mild queasiness and ten being projectile vomiting, Castiel was a nine. He would have been a ten but he had swallowed the sudden rise of bile in his throat and had a stranglehold on his urge to empty his stomach all over the floor. He had managed to make it through all of his classes without thinking too much about the qualifiers but now that he was about to compete he was terrified.

"C'mon, Cas, it's just the qualifiers. We only have to get a certain amount of points and we're in. That's it. It's no big deal."

Castiel could feel the expression of undiluted fear on in his face when he looked at Dean.

"Okay, fine, it's a bit of a deal. But not much!"

Peeling his tongue from the roof of his mouth, Castiel swallowed dryly. "Dean, perhaps I should have told you before."

"What?"

"I have a fear of being the focus of attention."

"We're playing Criss Cross, Cas, not giving a speech. And there'll be four matches playing at the same time. No one will look at us."

"You don't understand. There are people out there." He stared at the door of the changing rooms which led outside onto the courts. Seating had been constructed the day before, television crew had set up their equipment, announcers were preparing to call Castiel and Dean's entrance; there were too many people. "I don't know if I can-"

A warm hand landed on his back and gently started to rub. Castiel hadn't yet strapped on the pads which would protect his torso and limbs from wayward discs so it was only the thin material of his shirt that separated his skin from Dean's hand. When their gazes met the movement stuttered and doubt flickered in Dean's eyes but Castiel could do no more than sag and since Castiel didn't try to kill him, Dean carried on. Although he didn't want to admit it, it was comforting.

"C'mon, Cas. What happened to the guy who threw a lightning bolt at me? What happened to the son of Zeus huh?"

The son of a god. Dean had no idea how close he was to the truth. Castiel's lips tilted at the irony but Dean took it as amusement. "See? You were bad ass. You just need to find that again."

Where _had _his anger escaped to? He had always been angry. The storm within him had been perpetually writhing and screaming with energy. He looked into Dean's soft green eyes, felt the warmth from his hand seep through Castiel's shoulder blades and heat his chest. Had Dean quenched his anger?

"You ready to go?" A student from a lower year had appeared and was standing in the doorway.

Dean squeezed Castiel's shoulder. "You'll do fine."

* * *

They were going to get slaughtered, thought Dean as they walked out onto the court to the cheer of the crowd. If they were up against an experienced team they didn't stand a chance with Cas being so nervous. Criss Cross didn't allow for nerves. It was attack or lose. When Cas was focused he was good but given how distracted he was Dean doubted they were going to make it through unless they were up against a seriously shit team.

As luck would have it, when they reached the court, which was boxed in on either side by stands for the audience, they were facing the worst team in the state; a brother and sister with the ability to grow plants.

Dean snorted, flipping the helmet in his hands and planting it on his head. He rolled his shoulders, his vision enhancing with the spread of his wings, and enjoyed the spark of recognition and fear on his opponents' faces.

"What?" asked Castiel.

"Let's just say we've got no problems qualifying. These guys suck. They use grass as camouflage for Christ's sake."

"We shouldn't underestimate them," said Castiel. His voice actually shook.

Dean looked at him. They had taken their positions in the boxes and were a few feet apart. "Hey, Cas?"

Castiel lifted his face from where he had been focused on securing the padding on his right arm.

"Remember what it is you want, okay? You want it, you've gotta fight for it," said Dean. "Don't let them take it."

After a moment Castiel nodded, his brows drawing together, mouth firming into a determined line. He slapped his helmet on and as he did the clouds rolled over head, crackling with energy.

Dean grinned under the visor. "That's my boy," he muttered.


	7. Chapter 7

Thunder crackled above drawing a few surprised murmurs out of the crowd. The day's weather had been calm and clear so a clap of thunder was bound to cause a stir. Castiel tried to keep his weather changing nature to a minimum but it was difficult, given how nervous he was.

Castiel ignored everything else around him even the announcer's catastrophic pronunciation of his first name. He glanced at Dean who was completely at east, swinging his arms gaily like he was about to go for a stroll in the park. Castiel's heart was drumming in his chest.

The referee stepped onto the court to toss the coin since they lacked a silver ball to throw the disk out at random. The tournament games would be played inside and would have the giant ball and electronic targets just like official CrissCross matches.

The coin landed on tails and, having called it, Dean got to throw first.

Across the court, their opponents had shrouded their targets in ivy which Castiel had known was legal but was still disgruntled that it was allowed. A solid barrier blocking the target was prohibited. Camouflage, on the other hand, was perfectly acceptable given that the disk would still be allowed to hit the wall.

The fluorescent yellow target was visible through the gapping in the ivy. It made it difficult to see the whole circle. Castiel thought it was a bit of a cheat since it was up to the referee to decide whether it was a hit or not.

However, Dean had no problems beating the camouflage. He threw the disk with an incredible amount of power, more power than Castiel had seen him use before. He wondered if Dean had been purposely withholding his true strength for fear of hurting Castiel.

The thought made him warm and he cursed it. He couldn't afford to be attracted to Dean.

The disk hit the target dead centre and rebounded towards Castiel. It flew into his hands with a crunch. Shudders of pain ran up his arms to his shoulders but he didn't hesitate to throw it at the target opposite him. It was only when the disk left his hands that he realised he had made a mistake. His opponent caught it excruciatingly easily.

"Your water whip, Cas!" yelled Dean.

Castiel blushed, fervently glad his face was concealed. He created the whip he had been using numerous times in practice. While it was forming, his female opponent had shot the disk at Castiel's target and right into her team mate's waiting hands.

"Jesus _Christ,_ Cas. FOCUS!"

There was no need to see Dean's face to know he was angry. His tone was enough. Castiel could hardly blame him though; he was playing very poorly.

The player opposite Dean flung the disk with a rope of ivy, accomplishing what Castiel should have done. Fortunately, Dean caught it and shot it back. The disk curved around the boy and smacked the target again.

Dean was flawless.

It was evident why he was a champion in the way he moved, how he anticipated the direction of the disk, how he blocked it, caught it.

Perfection.

But it wasn't Dean's technique that had Castiel enraptured. It was just the beauty of his movements. It was the sinuous lines of his body and the stretch and bunch of muscle that left Castiel feeling a little breathless. So breathless he almost missed the disk flying towards him like a miniature alien spacecraft.

Castiel caught it (barely) between both hands. Tongue between his teeth, he launched the disk in the air, tangled it in his whip, and slung it at near bullet speed towards the target. The disk moved so fast he heard the wind screech in its effort to get out of the way, and the sound it made when it hit the wall was like a crack of a gunshot.

He had thrown it too hard. There was no way Dean was going to catch it without injuring himself.

Breath lodged in his throat, Castiel watched Dean leap for it, taking the brute force of the speeding disk in his padded gut. He grunted as it hit. His wings twitched and he staggered a little upon landing but he had caught it and when the referee acknowledged the point, Castiel had to suppress the urge to dance with glee.

One point earned. Two left to win.

* * *

Dean could pinpoint the second Cas relaxed and began to play like he had in their practice sessions. His confidence was growing with every catch and throw, and after they earned their second point, Cas was getting a little bit cocky, swaggering about with that whip of his, shaking his fucking gorgeous ass. It made Dean sweat with how much he liked it.

Dean had never seen him look so hot. He almost had trouble focusing on the game when Castiel blocked a particularly tricky shot with his whip and Dean got an awesome view of his ass. One step at a time Cas was driving him crazy.

When they reached their third point Dean was relieved it was over. He didn't think he could take much more of Cas's sexy sassiness.

The game had lasted a total of half hour. Not the shortest match on record at True Form but close enough.

The announcer heralded them the victors and the crowd cheered. Over the roar Dean could hear Jo, Ash and Castiel's friend, Gabriel, chanting their names. It was a pretty awesome feeling but nowhere near as good as the look Cas gave him after he had taken his helmet off. His face was flushed with happiness and his hair was spiky and damp with sweat.

"We did it!" exclaimed Castiel.

"No, _you _did it," said Dean, grinning and although he knew there was a damn good chance of getting his balls ripped off he threw his arms around his teammate and dragged him in for a tight hug.

Castiel immediately tensed in his arms and maybe it was the adrenaline from the game but Dean didn't let go. His bravery paid off though because eventually tentative arms came up to encircle Dean's waist.

Cas's hands were _on _him. They were right _there_, planted on his lower back.

Dean shivered, breathing in the delicious scent of stormy nights and electricity. With the warmth of Castiel's body and the scent of storm clouds drifting up his nose, Dean was reminded of home, a flashback of sitting in Sam's bedroom with a bunch of candles because the power lines had knocked out electricity in every house for ten blocks.

All too soon they pulled apart and the absence made his heart ache.

Cas's cheeks were still pink. He had a tiny smile on his face that Dean hadn't seen before and he felt himself reflecting it.

* * *

Now that they had won the qualifying match, they were officially entrants into the True Form CrissCross tournament which was going to take place over several weeks. If they won, Castiel could go home. With the rain stone he could return to the sky. The thought didn't make him feel as excited as it usually did. That wasn't to say he wasn't looking forward to it because he was. It just wasn't as. . . _pressing. _He was worried it had something to his growing attraction to Dean.

The hug they had shared had been overwhelming. It had made Castiel feel hot and aroused and he'd had a desire to be touched and to be held. It was dangerous. Castiel needed to distance himself before it became much worse. He needed to remember his priorities not just for his own sake but for Dean's too.

Sitting down on the bench in the changing rooms, he tied his shoes, moving slower than he usually would have because his thoughts were weighing him down. The seat dipped and Castiel knew who it was without looking up. "Hello Gabriel."

"Cassie, baby, you won. I'm so proud."

"We won," corrected Castiel.

"Yeah, your boyfriend was a beast out there. Where is he?"

"In the showers."

Gabriel was quiet for a moment. A quiet moment for Gabriel was an eternity to anyone else and immediately caught Castiel's attention.

"What?" said Castiel suspiciously.

There was a contemplative look on Gabriel's face. "Want to see him naked?" he asked, with a ridiculous wiggle of his brows.

Castiel fell over his own feet in a mad dash to get away. More than once he had been randomly teleported somewhere by Gabriel and he wasn't keen on doing it again. Nor did he need to see Dean naked. That would _not _help his situation at all.

"Oh, come on, Cassie." He extended the "e" like a petulant child. "Where's your sense of fun?"

"Lost to the ether."

"No, I don't think you had one to begin with," pouted Gabriel.

The door to the changing rooms opened and Dean's friends, Ash and Jo, walked in followed by Sam.

"Not bad, dude," said Ash. "I respect your," he waved a hand with a lit cigarette wedged between two fingers, "flower watering abilities." He took a long drag from the bud. "It was like watching Squirtle vs Blastoise."

"You mean Bulbasaur," said Jo who was leaning against the lockers beside Castiel, arms folded.

"I do?"

Jo didn't answer him. She looked down at Castiel with a neutral expression but he could still see the dislike there. Her lack of answer brought forth an awkward silence which Sam hastened to fill with a tiny, "Well done, Castiel."

Castiel smiled at him.

"Guessing you owe Dean a lot for getting your ass through the qualifiers," said Jo, rolling a piece of chewing gum around her tongue.

"I think ten thousand dollars will settle the debt," answered Castiel.

"He only gets that if he wins."

Castiel's face hardened. She was looking for an argument, picking a fight. For what reason, Castiel didn't know. Perhaps walking away would have been a wiser decision but Castiel wasn't going to allow her to make him look weak in front of others. The sea in his internal storm grew restless. "I'm aware of that and so is Dean. He knows the deal."

"So, you're going to give him everything, huh?"

"With the exception of the rain stone, yes."

"You're just going to give up five thousand bucks?"

"If you're questioning my loyalty you needn't bother."

"Because you're _so _trustworthy," she droned.

"Jo," said Sam quietly. "Leave him alone."

"What? No one knows anything about him and Dean just trusts him to hand over his half of the winnings?"

Castiel rose to his feet. "Since the deal is between myself and Dean I don't think it's any of your business whether he trusts me or not."

"I'm his _best _friend," she responded with a fatuous emphasis on "best" as though Castiel felt remotely threatened by the title.

"Despite what you seem to believe, this isn't about you so please extricate yourself from the subject."

"I'm looking out for Dean," growled Jo.

"Are you? Or are you jealous of the amount of time I'm spending with him?" Since Jo first warned him to be nice to Dean, Castiel had suspected she had feelings for him.

"No, _actually," _she poked him in the chest and the furnace of Castiel's temper ratcheted another degree._ "_I'm making sure you don't rip his fucking heart out."

"I'm confused. Is this about Dean's money or his heart?" Castiel grated.

"Both."

"It's irrelevant. Both are his."

"No, they're not! And I'll be damned if you take the other too!"

Another silence reigned only this time it wasn't awkward. At least, not for Castiel, who stood squinting at her in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Forget it," said Jo, moving away from the lockers. She looked embarrassed. Ashamed.

"No," said Castiel. Surely she didn't mean Dean had feelings for him? "Tell me. What did you —"

"Hey, guys," said Dean cheerfully, towel wrapped around his waist.

Castiel was distracted for a moment by a tiny droplet of water curling around Dean's hard nipple. He watched it fall to Dean's belly button before he diverted his gaze.

"What?" said Dean obviously sensing the cotton thick tension in the atmosphere.

"Nothing," said Jo probably too quickly to dissipate Dean's suspicion.

Dean frowned. "Cas?"

"Everything is fine, Dean," he said with certainty but the silence continued to painfully linger. Sam opened his mouth once or twice but apparently couldn't think of anything to say. Jo was resolutely staring at the floor and Ash had a smirk on his face, safely hidden in his own cloud of smoke.

"Testicles," Gabriel blurted out. Everyone looked at him. "Sorry. I couldn't handle the awkwardness."

* * *

To break the weird tension between his friends, Dean suggested that they all watch the last of the qualifying matches together. While Jo, Ash, Sammy and Gabriel walked ahead, Dean lingered behind with his frowning teammate.

"It's raining," offered Dean.

"I noticed," said Cas, glancing up at the dull grey sky.

"Is that you or. . .?"

"No. This isn't my doing," replied Cas. His eyes were mix of blues like a pallet of paint had been dumped into a bucket of water and the hues were bleeding together in a riot of colour.

Dean wasn't sure what to make of it. He hadn't seen them look that way before.

Cas tilted his head back, closing his eyes briefly against the light drizzle.

"Do you think you'll ever love anything more than you love the rain?" asked Dean.

Those stormy eyes caught Dean's for half a second. "Why would I want to? Rain is constant. Eternal. No matter what happens it will always be there in ways that humans can never hope to be."

"It can't kiss you though, can it?"

Without warning Castiel came to a halt. Little droplets of rain were clinging to his lashes framing his big eyes. "Dean . . ." He licked his lips. The blues were swirling faster.

What was he feeling? Nervous? Annoyed? Conflicted?

"Dean," he repeated. "Do. . .do you like me? I mean, are you attracted to me?"

"What?" spluttered Dean. His stomach leapt like it would on a steep drop on a roller coaster. His hand jumped to the back of his neck. He could feel his face heating. "L-like you? No. Ha ha. Where the hell did you get that from? No."

Castiel continued to look at him with those intense blue eyes. "Good. Because I will never have feelings for you. Not in that way. And if I have ever given you the impression on the contrary then I'm sorry, that wasn't my intention."

The disk flying into Dean's gut had hurt less than Cas's words. Anything could have hurt less than what Castiel was telling him. A clamp, cold and rusty, clasped his throat. The dial beside it twisted, tightening its grip. It fucking hurt like a bitch to paste a smile on his face and laugh. "Don't be so full of yourself. You're not my type," he said.

Cas smiled then and it was genuine. Dean could distinguish Cas's fake smiles from his real. He was good at it. In any other situation seeing a smile like that would have warmed Dean, made his heart swell. Instead he felt sick to his stomach.

"We should catch up to the others," suggested Castiel.

Dean could only nod.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Thanks a lot for the reviews. Much appreciated. Does anyone have any kinks they've got an aversion to? I'd like to write some tail fucking in this fic but if anyone's against it I won't do it. _

* * *

Sunshine heralded the arrival of a new Thursday, and Castiel had a tiny smile on his face that he couldn't shake. Their CrissCross victory, despite being small, had given him the boost he had needed. He was in the competition. He had a chance of winning; ergo he was one step closer to getting his hands on the rain stone.

The huge glass doors to the cafeteria stood open to allow some of the morning's cool breeze to sweep inside. Smells of freshly cooked bread, bacon, the tangy aroma of tomatoes and other foods danced in the air.

Castiel was in such a good mood that the usual din from chattering students didn't bother him. He swept over to collect a wooden tray from the stack at the start of the buffet table, swallowing saliva which had pooled under his tongue at the sight of food, and joined the queue.

"Well, if it isn't little Indiana Jones."

Castiel looked over his shoulder to find Meg Master's smirking at him. Her dark hair fell in waves around her pale face and even darker eyes stood out against her smooth white complexion. Though he didn't mean to, his gaze caught on her cleavage which peaked out of her open school shirt.

He swallowed again.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer," said Meg, brow raised.

Castiel jumped. His eyes darted back to her face. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Hey, don't worry about it. Maybe I like having those baby blues on my chest."

If Castiel had been flustered before, he was in flames now. To save himself the obligation of responding he turned around to select a medium sized bowl from the crockery stack.

"So you're in the tournament I hear."

"Yes," replied Castiel as he helped himself to a few slices of fruit.

"Gotta say, I'm surprised, Castiel. You've always been a bit . . . quiet."

"CrissCross doesn't require conversation."

"I'm aware of that, smart ass. Hey." She tugged on his shirt sleeve.

He stopped and turned but he also inched away from her until he was out of her range.

"Why have you entered?" questioned Meg.

"Because I wanted to."

"You don't strike me as the competitive type."

Familiar sparks of irritation rose within in him at the intrusive questions. "You don't know me," he said snippily.

Meg seemed unperturbed by Castiel's show of annoyance. She grinned. "No, I don't but I'd like to." Very deliberately she slid her tongue over her front teeth which had become pointed. When Castiel met her gaze again her brown eyes melted into gold and her pupils sharpened and elongated into slits. She was showing off her feline traits.

"Is that a flirtation?" asked Castiel.

Meg threw her head back and cackled loud enough to draw the attention of half the cafeteria.

Cringing, Castiel ducked his head.

"You're adorable," said Meg. "I'll see you around, Castiel, hopefully as an opponent."

Meg wasn't the only one who was suddenly intrigued by Castiel. His victory in the qualifying match had drawn a lot of attention. Attention he didn't want. He found himself getting pats and slaps on the back from people he had never spoken to in his life.

"Good game, Castiel," said a tall blonde boy, Adam, when they passed each other during a free period.

Castiel suspected any TrueForm team was worth routing for in the eyes of the student body, and it was for that reason that he was receiving a lot of superfluous praise.

However, he had never seen Dean receive as much. He and his two friends, Jo and Ash, tended to be quite a solitary group. Given that Dean was a CrissCross champion it was odd that he didn't have more of a fan base.

Then again, Dean and Sam had started at TrueForm only three years ago and there was an obvious class difference. Dean clearly wasn't from a rich background. It was probably his working class status that had automatically pigeonholed him as "different" and therefore separate from the sheep.

After school Castiel changed out of his uniform into a grey t-shirt and sweatpants. Dean and Castiel had been practicing every weekday since they had first decided to team up, so Castiel didn't expect to have to call Dean after half an hour of standing in the CrissCross courts alone.

When Castiel was put through to voicemail for the third time (_Hey, it's Dean, you know what to do. . .)_ he grew concerned. He headed over to Dean's dormitory and knocked on his door. It swung open after a long moment. Dean stood in nothing but his boxers, staring at Castiel expressionlessly.

After having such a good day yesterday, Castiel was shocked by the hostility. He stumbled over a greeting. "Are. . . are we not practicing tonight?"

"No. It's not like I need the practice."

Castiel's lips thinned. His good mood disappeared like clouds sailing in front of the sun. "Is something wrong?" asked Castiel, feeling upset rather than angry. The fact that his normal reaction, anger, wasn't available to him only made him feel worse.

"Nope," said Dean. He popped the "p" with his plump lips.

"Why are you acting this way?"

"I'm not acting any way."

Castiel felt confused, upset, and disappointed. The sea inside of him was beginning to stir. "You're being childish."

Dean laughed loud and bogusly. "Yeah and you're _never _childish. You're just a higher class of douche, right Cas?"

Castiel's mouth fell open in shock. For just a split second guilt flashed across Dean's handsome face but it quickly diminished.

"Look, I'm sor—I'm just tired," said Dean, sighing. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

But Dean didn't speak to Castiel the next day or the day after that. He completely ignored him and Castiel didn't know what to do. Along with his upset and confusion, his anger grew.

* * *

"I need to speak to Dean."

"Yeah? Awesome." Jo tried to shut the door but Cas's foot wedged it open.

"Where is he?"

"How the hell would I know?"

"I thought you were his _best _friend."

Dean had never heard Cas cram so much hatred into one sentence before. He must have been seriously pissed.

"I don't know where he is!" snapped Jo.

"You're lying," retorted Castiel.

"No, I'm not! Now move your goddamn foot before I set it on fire."

Even from where Dean was sitting, on Jo's bed in the corner of the room, he heard Cas's growl before the door slammed shut.

Hands on her hips, Jo turned to Dean. "If you're still planning on winning the tournament you can't avoid him forever."

"I'm not avoiding him," muttered Dean as he scrolled through the text messages Cas had sent to him.

**Cas: Are we going to practice tonight?**

**Cas: Dean?**

**Cas: Dean, we need to practice.**

**Cas: Where are you?**

**Cas: Can you please reply?**

**Cas: Why did you ignore me a lunch?**

**Cas: Are you in your room?**

**Cas: Why are you ignoring me?**

**Cas: Answer me.**

"You haven't spoken to him in two days. In practice terms that's like half a year," reasoned Jo.

Dean didn't answer. He felt like shit and had done since Cas had shot him down in flames. Every time he saw Cas his chest ached. What made it worse was Dean had honestly thought they had been getting closer, that there had been a chance of being with him, and the fact that Cas rejected him before he even made a move had disintegrated Dean's confidence to dust.

"You need to forget him."

Dean looked up into Jo's concerned face. "What? I'm fine. Cas isn't –"

"Don't bullshit me." She sighed and scooted across the bed towards him. Bringing one knee up, she wrapped her arms around it. "He's not worth it."

Like his mood, Dean sank lower until he was on his back, chin on his chest. He flicked his thumb so Cas's messages flew up the screen. "Can't let him go," he murmured quietly enough that he hoped Jo hadn't heard. He was pretty sure she had though since she didn't ask him to repeat it. "I don't know what it is. He just . . . drives me crazy."

"It's an infatuation. It'll pass."

"It hasn't passed for three years. No point hoping it'll pass now."

"What do you like about him? Because I've got to be honest, I really can't see what you see."

"We're not at a slumber party. Hell will freeze over before I start talking about how pretty Cas's eyes are."

"You think his eyes are pretty?"

"Shut up."

Jo smiled. "Maybe you should try dating. It might take your mind off him."

"Not likely."

"Brady Johnson's hot."

"He's also a douche."

"He doesn't have to have a charming personality to be good in bed."

"Not interested."

"Why?"

"Because I can't."

"Can't what?"

"I just can't!" snapped Dean and though he couldn't see himself he knew his eyes had flashed. He exhaled heavily. "It was different before."

"Before what?" persisted Jo.

"Just. . . before. Before I got to know Cas."

"So, what, you found it easier to get laid before you knew him?" She shook her head. "And now that you know what a first class bell end he is, you're saving yourself for him? Seriously? Are you alright in the head? There's something wrong with you."

"Probably is," said Dean. He rolled over and closed his eyes. "Wake me in a couple of hours?"

"Why don't you sleep in your own damn bed?"

"Because Cas might see me going back to my room."

"So you _are _avoiding me," growled a very familiar voice.

"Mother fucker!" yelled Dean as he scrambled up right, chest heaving, plastered to the corner of Jo's bedroom.

Cas was standing rigidly in a long sleeved blue top and light jeans. He was glowering at Dean. The full force of his anger was literally crackling around them. Little blue and yellow sparks jumped from Cas's fists. He looked murderous. He looked deadly.

He looked fucking hot!

* * *

At his heart Castiel was an obsequious character. Like the rain he preferred to move around things that stood in his way rather than destroy them.

But Castiel's life since falling to earth had been one long, continuous build up of pressure and energy that he had no release for. There was no safety valve in his human form. As such, the turmoil within him was a near constant thing. It took time and patience to calm it and so little to set it off.

Castiel's mind was a sea which up until two days ago had been as still as a mill pond. After suffering Dean's unexplained disappearance, however, his calm ocean had turned into the stormy Atlantic, capable of crushing ships with a single wave. There was too much pressure and absolutely no outlet. His mind was screaming.

"Hey! You can't just break in here!" exclaimed Jo.

"We didn't break in actually," said Gabriel who was standing smugly next to Castiel. Gabriel had been a little too eager to help Castiel force his way into Jo's room. Though he shouldn't have been surprised; Gabriel had a tendency to show up in places he didn't belong.

"You came in without my permission!"

"We didn't break the door down," said Gabriel as though he had done her a favour.

"Why have you been avoiding me, Dean?" Castiel demanded. Lightning was licking up his arms and it also began to crackle outside, above the school. The room darkened and a strange wind which Castiel didn't know he could produce spun around their legs, blowing papers off the desk.

"I'm not avoiding you," said Dean over the grumble of electricity. "And Jo's right. You can't just bust in here. Who the hell do you think you are?"

Castiel's eyes caught on the arm Dean was waving around. He snatched his wrist out of the air, turning it to view the screen of his phone. Every single text Castiel had sent was displayed there and every single one remained unanswered. "You got my messages?"

"Yeah, so what if I did?" growled Dean, snatching his arm back.

"Why haven't you answered?"

"I've been busy."

"Don't lie!"

"I'm not!"

"Have I done something to offend you?"

"No!"

"Have I insulted you?"

"No—"

"Then why?!"

"Just fucking leave, Cas!" He was on his feet now, matching Castiel's anger.

"I demand to know why you are ignoring me!" shouted Castiel over the thunder and lightning rolling outside and in. The rain hadn't broken through the surge in clouds yet. Like Castiel's internal storm, the pressure was still building.

"You demand?!" Dean's eyes flashed; twin flames stood behind his irises. It's intensity startled Castiel. "I don't give a shit what you demand! Stop taking it out on me just because I'm the only one apart from U-Go Girl over there who's willing to spend time with you!"

They were practically nose to nose. Dean's lip was curled back to display teeth which were noticeably sharper than a regular human set. He had seen it before with Meg but there was something about Dean that made Castiel excited. Seeing them so close gave Castiel an unexpected thrill that only added to the emotional whirlwind spinning inside of him. It only added to the pressure.

Wind blasted against the windows. The glass shuddered.

"Guys, take this outside!" screamed Jo over the roaring storm.

"You criticise my choice of company and yet you spend most of your time with a thief and an arsonist," countered Castiel. He spun the lightning around his hand until he had a fist of blue-white electricity.

"Maybe it's because everyone in this fucking school is stuck up like you!"

"Or _perhaps _it's because you're a low life and you and your brother don't belong here!"

A real lion's roar ripped from Dean and vibrated through Castiel's chest. He slammed Castiel into the wall, shoving his forearm under Castiel's chin. "I've been working since I was eleven years old to get Sammy into this school you piece of shit! Don't fucking tell me he doesn't belong here because he does. He's smarter than anyone in this school and he's got the grades to prove it."

Dean's words and actions were supposed to be intimidating, and they were, but something else was happening to Castiel that alarmed him.

His palms were slick with sweat. His heart was in his throat, pulse pounding in his ears. A coil of heat was unravelling and tightening all at once with the press of Dean's thighs, hips and chest. They were flush against one another. Castiel inhaled unsteadily and all he could smell was Dean. Leather, metal, a body spray or antiperspirant that smelled so good he unconsciously gripped Dean's arms as if to draw him closer. Castiel couldn't even get his hands around Dean's biceps though. Dean had muscle. More muscle and strength than Castiel had, and the realisation made him shiver, made him want. He gasped but it couldn't be heard over the screaming storm.

"What is wrong with you?!" cried Dean.

"Dean, let him go!" shouted Jo.

He wasn't listening. Dean's body heat combined with Castiel's already blazing temperature made him sweat through his shirt. With sickening realisation, Castiel was hard, and the more Dean pushed against him the more Castiel had difficulty controlling himself.

Dean didn't seem to be aware of Castiel's internal meltdown or, apparently, Castiel's erection. His jaw was set. It twitched under the strain of his clenching teeth. "What is wrong with you? Is it your fucking goal in life to tear me apart?" He was shouting, snarling in Castiel's face and Castiel's heart was racing. It wanted to burst through his chest. Dean was close enough that Castiel could see the gold flecks in his usually soft green eyes.

Uselessly, Castiel tried to push him away but Dean was pressing his entire body against Castiel's with all of his strength. There was no way of escape. It was painful, and it excited him more than he ever would have imagined. Castiel was standing on a knife's edge. He was wobbling and Dean just kept pushing and pushing.

"Why are you always trying to hurt me? Why do you want to hurt me?!" demanded Dean. "Answer me!" And that's when it happened. Dean's thigh fell between Castiel's legs. The rush of pleasure that exploded in his body forced Castiel's eyes to snap closed. He came with a shout, energy surged through him, simultaneously sending a lightning bolt screaming into the window, shattering it, and bursting into the room.

Debris fell past Castiel's face. Panting, he opened his eyes. Dean was still holding him, still too close to Castiel but there was no anger in his face. Just shock.

Beyond Dean, Jo's bed and window had been destroyed. Where the lightning bolt had hit her mattress it was charcoal black and smouldering. A stream of smoke was rising from the centre.

Dean blinked. "Did you just . . ." He looked down, peeling his leg away to reveal a dark patch on Castiel's jeans. "Holy shit."

Castiel's cheeks flamed.

"_What is going on_?!" In the open doorway stood Miss Moseley, fists on her hips. She stabbed a finger at Dean and Castiel. "You two! Come with me right now."


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Since no one objected, tail fucking is in. Thanks for the reviews sexy peeps._

* * *

Moseley's office had a lot of junk in it. It was a small, stuffy room wide enough to fit a desk and bookcase in. From his seat, Dean looked around at the ornaments perched on the shelves specifically made for them, then at the crystal ball on the desk, polished to shine. Moseley was one of the few regular humans at TrueForm. She was hung up on precognition, had a bit of an obsession with it, which was ironic because she taught History.

The door behind Dean opened and closed with a neat click, announcing their return. Moseley had let Cas change, partly because come stained pants didn't fit in well with the rest of the school's refined décor but largely due to Cas's flaming cheeks and absolutely pitiable whispered request to clean up.

Dean thought the whole thing was hilarious. Generally he wasn't down with falling on the wrong side of his teachers. He didn't want to risk getting thrown out because it had cost him all but the clothes off his back to get into the damn place. But Dean honestly couldn't have cared less as Moseley took her place in the high backed chair opposite and eyed them both with disapproval. He couldn't muster a single worry because he had made Cas_ come. _And that meant Cas, on some level, was attracted to him. It also meant Dean had a shot with him. An actual shot at wooing him. He snickered. _Woo. _

"The damage Joanne's room has sustained is disgusting. I have never seen such blatant disregard for the rules," rebuked Moseley.

Dean faded out in favour of remembering what Cas's face looked like when he came. How would Cas look riding his cock, coming all over himself? _Christ. _

"-_must _have more self control when using your abilities." Pursing her lips, Moseley continued, "Make no mistake, I'll be writing to both of your families, they will be informed of the situation and will receive bills for the damage. As for you two, expect a detention notice next Saturday."

Once the spiel was over, Dean glanced at his teammate. Cas's face was a vibrant red. His hands were tucked into the sleeves of his top, his shoulders were hunched and not once did he look Dean's way.

They exited Moseley's office together. To give him a bit of space, Dean walked slowly just in case Cas wanted to escape. Even if Dean was feeling awesome, he could understand that Cas must have felt pretty embarrassed. He surprised Dean, though, by walking at the same pace. He still wasn't looking up from his feet, but at least he wasn't running away either.

The way Cas tripped along beside him, head down, cheeks red, reminded Dean of a scolded puppy; it was adorable.

Biting back a smile, Dean said, "I think we got off pretty lightly all things considered."

Jo was going to be pissed that she would have to change rooms, and his dad was going to kick Dean's ass into next week for the bill but whatever. He'd made Cas _come._

Before they reached the stairs down to the entry way where they could cross the grounds to their dorm rooms, Cas stopped. What was left of the day's light was shining in through the stained glass window making a colourful pattern on the side of Cas's face and neck. He lifted his eyes then, and Dean had to swallow his reaction.

Cas's irises were a deep, impossible blue that seemed to have layer after layer after layer of colour. They looked so deep Dean could have sunk into them. What was Cas feeling _now_? What made his eyes look that way?

"Dean, I'm sincerely sorry for what I did. For everything I did. I didn't mean the things I said. I was –"

"Frustrated?" supplied Dean.

"Wrong," said Castiel. "I was wrong, but yes, I was also frustrated."

"I know. It's cool. I told you to jerk off every now and then, didn't I?" said Dean with a chuckle.

Cas groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. "How humiliating."

"Come on, it's no big deal."

"_Yes_, it is."

Since Cas had basically blown a hole in the side of the school dormitory, he shouldn't have taken the risk, but Cas looked so helpless and embarrassed that Dean couldn't _not _touch him. He captured his hands and gently pulled them away from his face. "Hey, it's okay. Look, I—" He stepped closer to allow a gaggle of chattering girls to pass. When it was quiet again, he grinned bashfully and said, "I got a boner watching you suck on a pen in class once."

Cas's eyes widened to saucers. There was a tiny flicker of recognition, a "so you _do_ like me," moment in Cas's eyes, and Dean waited for the shit to hit the fan. He waited for Cas to push him away, maybe smite him with lightning, but it never happened. Cas just stared at him and Dean waited.

The uncertainty and shock melted away after a moment. All that was left was an expression Dean couldn't read. Then those big blue eyes lightened like they had when he'd been nervous before the qualifiers.

Cas looked down at his hands which Dean was still holding, then back up at his face. They paused on Dean's lips, and for a heart pounding second Dean thought he was going to lean in. He didn't.

Cas exhaled, pulling his hands from Dean and looking away. Before he could close himself off completely, Dean said, "Do you want to practice?"

Relief coloured Cas's face. "I'd love to practice," he sighed.

* * *

The storm had passed.

It was as if whatever wall they had built between them, strong and impenetrable, had been knocked down, and the dust was settling at their feet. He felt much closer to Dean than he ever had before.

While dusk turned to night, the CrissCross disk was passed back and forth, gliding smoothly from hand to hand. They spoke quietly to each other, having shouted enough, their voices travelling through the serene night.

The surface of Castiel's skin was cold from the air drying his perspiration, but internally he was warm.

His initial embarrassment had faded with Dean's confession. He didn't know what to do with the information. Dean liked him and he liked Dean.

The plan had been to keep him at arm's length. Castiel would be returning to the sky once they won the tournament and would therefore never see Dean again. It wouldn't be prudent to get involved with him when he was planning on leaving.

And yet . . . Castiel couldn't let the thought of being with Dean go. He wanted to try it, to taste it, if only for a short while. He would no longer be human once he returned to the sky, and experiencing companionship before he left for good would have been nice.

"Nice catch," praised Dean, when Castiel scooped the disk out of the air.

Castiel glowed. He flipped the disk in his hands, taking his time to return it.

"C'mon, throw it back," said Dean impatiently.

"What if I wanted to keep it?" teased Castiel.

"Then I'd take it off you," replied Dean, certain.

"Are you sure about that?"

Dean matched Castiel's playful smile. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Pretty sure."

Their gazes fixed for a long a minute, anticipation curling in Castiel's tummy. Then Dean charged.

Spinning on his heel, Castiel tried to make run for it, but he wasn't fast enough. He squawked when Dean's arms wrapped around his waist from behind, and his tummy swooped as he was yanked off his feet.

"What the hell kind of noise was that?!" laughed Dean. His voice rumbled straight through Castiel's back, into his bones, and he felt his cheeks warm at the burst of pleasure it gave him.

"Sounded like a cat getting its tail caught in something," said Dean. He slowly released Castiel, letting him slide down the length of his body. Dean must have done it on purpose, to flirt or perhaps to make Castiel feel embarrassed. He was being surprisingly bold considering Castiel had sent a lightning bolt only hours before through his friend's bedroom window and annihilated her bed. But that wasn't to say Castiel didn't like how much he was being touched.

"I thought I was supposed to be the one who was part cat," said Dean. His arms were loose around Castiel. He would no doubt let him go if he wanted to. Castiel didn't want the touching to stop though.

Heart hammering, he turned slowly in the embrace, keeping his eyes on Dean's throat so he didn't have to see his face. He didn't know what expression was above his gaze and he didn't want to know.

Tentatively, he placed his own hands on Dean's taut stomach. He waited for something, anything, bad to happen, and then skirted his palms around to Dean's back, where they stayed.

When Dean's only reaction was to tighten his arms, drawing them together until every line of their bodies were touching, Castiel released a pent up breath. It was wonderful to be held. He regretted having had to wait until he was seventeen for such an experience.

Castiel laid his forehead on Dean's shoulder, inhaling deep and exhaling slow.

"Not so scary is it?" murmured Dean into his ear.

The lilt of amusement was like a liquid calming agent on Castiel's whole body. He shivered. He was distinctly aware of his team mate's hands which had situated themselves extremely low on Castiel's back. For once, he didn't mind. In fact he found himself hoping they would drift lower.

His tummy was stuffed fully of butterflies fluttering in every direction. Where their skin made contact or where their bodies brushed ignited little sparks of pleasure in Castiel's chest.

"What other animals do you have in you?" whispered Castiel, cheeks hot. He hadn't meant to whisper, but his voice had disappeared.

"Hmmm, let's see. Lion, eagle, bat, lizard. . ."

Castiel lifted his head, curiosity winning over shyness. "You're part lizard?"

"Yeah."

"How much of you changes?"

A crooked smile tilted Dean's lips. "I can grow a tail and few scales."

So it was true. "You can produce a lizard tail? What type of tail is it?"

"Green?" Dean snickered. "It's pretty long. I can use it to pick stuff up but—"

"It's a prehensile tail?"

Dean's brows pulled together. "A what?"

"Dexterous. You can move it independently."

"Oh, yeah."

"That's very impressive."

"Maybe I'll show you sometime," said Dean with a wink.

Not only did Castiel's face heat, his entire body did too. "Maybe," squeaked Castiel.

Dean's hands slipped right over the curves of Castiel's ass and squeezed, and Castiel gasped as though a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him. His dick grew stiffer, he was sure Dean felt it this time, and he looked away. However, Dean, whose fingers were curling around the very top of Castiel's thighs, between his legs, didn't seem to mind. "You're so hot, Cas."

Castiel peeked at him and was surprised to see the amount of _want _in Dean's face. He was burning up. He didn't know what to do or how to answer.

Apparently, Dean did though because he took Castiel's chin between his thumb and finger, tilted his head and pressed their lips together.

Castiel inhaled sharply, eyes wide open. Gently Dean moved his mouth against Castiel's, not caring that Castiel was frozen in place. The touch of Dean's lips to his was electric, gentle but also coaxing with just the right amount of pressure.

With supreme awkwardness, Castiel attempted to kiss back. He was clumsy at first but with Dean setting the pace it was hard not to sink into the sensation as easily as he sank into Dean's lips.

Eventually Castiel's eyes slipped closed and he opened his mouth in a soft sigh, the tension in his muscles easing away.

Dean took the opportunity to delve his tongue inside, and Castiel's dick twitched. To his mortification he moaned, and almost pulled back, but Dean squeezed his ass again, pulling him in tighter, and Castiel realised that he wasn't the only one who was hard.

He knotted his fingers in Dean's shirt, squirming as each slide of Dean's tongue sent a pulse of desire through Castiel. It was addictive and consuming, and just like before, Castiel felt the pressure begin to build. That now familiar heat was burning through his body but before the same thing could happen again and he came without meaning to, he pulled back, panting hard.

Also breathless, Dean grinned slowly. "Did you like that?"

"Very much so," Castiel managed, and gasped when Dean kissed him again.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: I know my fics tend to be over the top with sugary sweetness. I guess I do it because I have more fun that way but also because I want to make people smile. That's why I never write a fic with an unhappy ending. I like the idea that whoever's reading might have been cheered up by my fic._

_Anyway, thanks for the reviews! My tumblr account has been deleted but if you visit my livejournal (the link is on my profile) you'll find art for this fic and ETAs for new chaps. _

* * *

Happiness to Castiel was a foreign language that he could only speak with basic proficiency. Since he and Dean had become something more than friends, however, he could speak it fluently.

Dean kissed him and touched him whenever he got the chance to. If they passed each other in a corridor he would drag Castiel around a corner, out of sight, and smile at him in a way that made his eyes crinkle in the corners before he kissed Castiel breathless.

Their relationship was exciting and new and Castiel couldn't muster the slightest inkling of regret.

With some persuasion, Dean had managed to soften Jo enough to allow Castiel and Gabriel to sit with them at lunch. It seemed to help that Gabriel spoke loudly and obnoxiously enough to distract from any potential awkwardness. In the first couple of days of sitting together, Gabriel practically carried the conversations and was always there to lighten the mood if things became too serious. Castiel was thankful for that, and he said as much.

"There's no need to thank me. All this fabulousness comes naturally," said Gabriel when they were alone on Wednesday morning. His good humour faded though, his expression turning serious. "I'm glad you and Dean finally got together."

Castiel's brows lifted. "Why?"

"Because you were lost without him."

Castiel couldn't fathom what he meant by that. To a degree, he had always been lost. He was stuck on earth in a dreadful human body, but Dean hadn't helped him find his way back. It had been Castiel who had discovered that a rain stone would return him to the sky. Nevertheless, Gabriel's words remained with him throughout the rest of the week.

Early on Saturday morning, Castiel awoke to a text from Dean and a detention notice. The detention was for an hour and a half at one o'clock, outside, picking litter. Castiel didn't mind. Although the fact that he was going to be serving his sentence with Dean probably had something to do with it.

Dean's text told him to check out the TrueForm CrissCross page. The lists were up. Every team's match over the two months was scheduled, time and date set. It was organised thus: thirty-two teams had made it through to the tournament, seven of which were from TrueForm, six were from Colt Academy, five from Wendigo High, four from Garrison Academy, three from Leviathan High, two from Croatoan High, two from Purgate High and only one from Hellgate Academy.

If all went well, Castiel and Dean would only have to win five games to be champions. He had to remind himself that, though it didn't seem like a lot, there were still ten experienced CrissCross players between him and his rain stone.

On the desk beside his hand, his phone jingled a very generic tune. His tummy flipped when he saw it was Dean. He smiled as he said hello.

"_Hey, have you seen the lists?"_ said Dean.

"I'm looking at them now," said Castiel. He scrolled past the diagram of the tournament table to the list of names underneath.

"_We're up against –"_

"Angle Angels?" interrupted Castiel. "I don't understand."

"_It's just a team name."_

"Do we have a team name?"

"_No. When I signed us up I left it blank. I didn't think you'd want one."_

"Oh." Castiel would have liked to have had a team name. The thought made him frown. Since when had he grown a liking for team spirit?

"_Their real names are Anna Milton and Ava Wilson. They're both from Garrison Academy. I was kind of hoping we'd get lucky and play a team I've been up against before but these guys are fresh on the scene so I've got no idea what kind of skills they've got." _

"It says 'air and sonic' next to their name. Doesn't that mean they can manipulate air and sound?" he guessed.

"_Yeah, it does, but we don't know how strong they are or what exactly 'sonic' means. Last time I faced a team with a sonic technique the guy used his hands to make a weird type of sonic boom, left his target wide open. We also don't know how skilled they are technically. They could have awesome NG skills but no talent on the CrissCross court."_

"I see," sighed Castiel.

"_We've got another problem too."_

"Which is?"

"_Satan's Spawn are in the tournament."_

"They sound ominous."

"_They are. They're the best CrissCross team I've ever seen. Out of professional sport anyway. They're from Hellgate Academy. Me and Jo played against them two years ago. We were in the final together and they were kicking our asses. Seriously, we were in the shit. They would have beaten us too if they hadn't been disqualified for playing dirty. They haven't competed for two years but now they're back and they're serious competition."_

"Great," mumbled Castiel.

"_Hey, c'mon, what's that attitude? We'll beat them."_

"I'm glad one of us has faith."

Dean laughed. It was deep and delicious. _"Yeah, not so much me, but I've got faith in you."_

His words should have made Castiel smile but they didn't. He didn't want Dean to have faith in him because then there was a chance of disappointing him. A good chance.

Dean continued to talk more about the players he recognised in the tournament list while Castiel checked his emails. His heart stopped when he saw an unopened message from his foster mother dated five days ago. He had been so distracted by Dean over the past week that he hadn't given a thought to anything else.

Apprehensively, Castiel chewed the inside of his lip as he clicked on her message.

_Dear Castiel,_

_I'm writing to remind you of your uncle's upcoming birthday dinner which will take place this Sunday. A car will pick you up at school at 4.00pm the day before. I would collect you myself only I'm currently out of town and won't be back until late on Saturday._

_Please wear something smart as your uncle will already be at home when you arrive. _

_Kind regards,_

_Mother._

Castiel groaned. He had completely forgotten about Uncle Zachariah's birthday dinner. The invitation to it had arrived weeks ago and was sitting in the bottom of his desk draw under a stack of work books. The plain white, engraved slice of card in a lily scented envelope described his foster mother's personality precisely. It was both pretentious and obsessively neat.

"_Cas?"_

"Yes, sorry, I'm listening," replied Castiel distractedly.

"_Something wrong?"_

"I've had an email from my foster mother. I have to go to a birthday dinner."

"_Uh, is that a bad thing?_"

"I try to avoid occasions like this where possible. They're always ostentatious and most of the time I'm segregated to a corner for the whole evening while guests who act like I'm related to them interrogate me."

"_Sounds fun,"_ said Dean dryly.

"It will be excruciating. Normally I would have had an excuse prepared but. . ." He had been too wrapped up in Dean. "I've been preoccupied this week."

"_Just say you've got work to do and stay with me instead. You can hide out in my room if you want to. I'll even let you share my bed."_

Castiel smiled. "That's very generous of you."

"_I'm a generous guy. I just give and give."_

"Why does that sound lewd?"

"_Because I was thinking of fucking you when I said it?"_

Castiel flushed. "You're incorrigible."

"_And you're sexy. Come see me."_

"I can't. I have work to do and," he heaved in a deep breath, "I have to go home later for my uncle's birthday."

Dean made a disgusted sound. _"Today? That's sucks, man."_

"And tomorrow."

"_You'll be gone all weekend?! Aw, c'mon, Cas, I thought –"_

"I have to go, Dean."

Dean muttered something down the line but Castiel didn't catch it.

"I'm sorry."

There was a pause and then, "_How about I go with you?"_

"Excuse me?" choked Castiel. Taking Dean to meet his foster mother would take things from casual to serious in very little time. He wasn't sure he was prepared to explain to Dean that he didn't want anything even close to serious. And that was only a minor problem in comparison to how his foster mother would react to meeting Dean Winchester – a polar opposite of her character.

"_It doesn't—it can be—it's not a _thing_. Don't make it a thing. It's not like you're taking me home to meet the parents, you know, as your. . . date."_

"I don't have any parents."

"_Way to break the awkwardness, Cas._"

"Sorry."

"_Look, why don't I just tag a long for moral support?"_

Castiel stared at the line where the two strips of gold, cream and brown floral wallpaper merged together on his wall. Dean's presence would make the whole episode less hellish or maybe, dare he hope, enjoyable.

Cautiously, he agreed.

* * *

"What the hell am I supposed to wear?" Dean turned away from his open wardrobe to look over at Cas who was sitting on his bed finishing off some homework. It was a Saturday, they'd just finished a long-ass detention picking up crap outside, and the first thing Cas wanted to do was homework. Dean thought he needed to reassess his priorities.

"Something smart but casual," replied Castiel without looking up, pen tapping against his lips.

Dean scrunched up his face. "And that's what? A tie and an ACDC shirt?"

"No, a nice sweater or button-down and slacks or neat jeans free of logos."

"Neat jeans," repeated Dean. If his jeans and the word neat were real people they would be mortal enemies and refuse to sit at the same table together. As for slacks. . . "Will these do?" He ripped a pair of tan slacks out from under the huge pile of dirty laundry collected at the base of his wardrobe like silt on a river bank. They had a rip at the waist line and there was a smudge of something (god only knew what) on the knee. Castiel held out his hand and Dean tossed them to him.

He had noticed only recently that Cas had nice hands. His fingers were long, his nails smooth and short. He watched with probably too much attention as Cas's clever thumb swiped over the rip.

"Do you have a needle and thread?"

Dean blinked. "Huh?"

"A needle and thread? Do you have them?"

"Oh, uh, hah, no. Why would I have that?"

Cas squinted. "To sew things."

"You _sew_?"

"You don't?"

Dean threw his arms wide. "Do I look like I sew?"

Cas took in his ripped _Terminator_ t-shirt, his jeans, which no longer had hems, and the socks on his feet that could pass for ankle warmers. "I suppose not."

"Maybe I should go naked," said Dean, throwing himself down on the bed beside Cas.

"I wouldn't advise that. Naomi would have you arrested."

Leaning on his elbow, Dean looked up at him and wondered what had happened to his real parents. "Who says she wouldn't like it?"

Castiel spared him a glance. "She's a lesbian. She has no more interest in dicks than you do in sewing."

"So, she knows you're gay?"

"Why would you assume that?"

Dean shrugged. "She's gay too."

"I'm interested in both males and females, Dean, that makes me bisexual, and just because Naomi is gay doesn't mean I'd divulge my sexual preferences to her at the first opportune moment."

"Okay, okay," said Dean, holding up his hands. "Relax. I was only asking." He huffed. Cas was still touchy about answering any questions. Even easy ones like his favourite colour. Dean wasn't exactly an open book but even he talked about himself from time to time.

He picked at his nail, searching for something else to say. "What do—" he began as he looked up but stopped in his tracks by the expression on Cas's face. He had already been staring at Dean, brows drawn together, lips pulled down at the corners.

Cas reached out, grazing his cheek with his finger. "I'm sorry." He collected his homework together and pushed it onto Dean's desk. "I'm a little apprehensive about going home. That's all."

"It's okay," said Dean, catching Cas's hand.

Cas played with their fingers in his lap. It felt nice. More than nice. Dean watched their digits twine and untwine for a moment before, moving his palm to Cas's thigh. "How about a distraction?" He instantly smelled Cas's arousal and felt the heat growing in Cas's lap too when his hand roamed higher.

Cas exhaled shakily.

Rising up on his arm, Dean leaned in to kiss him. "Let me help you relax," he muttered against Cas's lips while his other hand palmed his boyfriend's stiffening cock.

They had yet to do anything sexual because Dean had been wary. For two reasons. The first, Cas's last orgasm had resulted in the obliteration of Jo's bedroom. According to Cas, that had been "a collective build up of stress and sexual frustration and wouldn't happen again." Dean was dubious about that. The second, Cas was in his first relationship and the last thing Dean wanted to do was scare him off by going too fast.

It was hard (hah!) though because Dean was fucking _horny_ and made worse for the fact that he knew Cas wanted him; Dean could smell how hot he was for it.

Their kisses a little more urgent, Dean's fingers had flicked open Cas's jeans, when a sharp knock at the door had Cas jumping so sharply that he head-butted him.

A sharp pain sliced through Dean's skull. He blinked away stars.

"I'm sorry!" Cas touched Dean's forehead gently. "Are you okay?"

"Just concussed," teased Dean, enjoying the press of warm fingers.

Cas's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't think I hit you hard enough to give you a concussion."

Dean kissed him on the nose. "You're smart, Cas. That's why I like you."

"I sense sarcasm again."

Dean only laughed as he rolled off the bed, trotting to the door. He swung it open to reveal a sharply dressed woman with brown hair—tied back—and piercing blue eyes. She was dressed in a grey-blue suit and white blouse.

Dean's gaze travelled from head to foot. "Uh. . . yeah?"

"I'm looking for Castiel Novak," she said in a tone of voice that suggested she was rarely told no.

"Who's asking?"

"Dr. Naomi Novak. I'm his mother."


End file.
